[Fic] [Round 17] Wild Card, PG
Title: Wild Card
Author: Apa (apapazukamori)
Characters/Pairings: Murata x Adelbert von Grantz
Word Count: 538
Rating: PG
Any Warnings: Language
Theme/Prompt being used: The Ultimate KKM Challenge
Notes: Set during the events of episode 86.
"Are you sure you're going to be able to pull this off?"
Murata watched from one of the windows as Sir Weller mounted his horse. The long white coat ruffled with the late spring breeze as it settled over the saddle and the mare's back. Under the careful watch of "FanFan" and Yozak, his mother and Sir von Bielfeld fussed over him from the ground, earning them a patient smile and words Murata couldn't hear but could assume the gist of. Finally, when the man galloped off toward Lanzil's castle, Murata turned toward the other member of the group who had remained inside. The mercenary didn't seem to mind having his question put off; he merely leaned against the wall, arms folded across his chest, blue eyes piercing and expression openly condescending.
Murata smiled. "Of course," he replied lightly. "Sir Weller can manage this part on his own."
Adelbert snorted. "I remember what happened the last time you were allowed to scheme with free rein."
"It is what I am best at," the teen replied, his own expression shifting into a slight, mocking smile. "And now, as then, there's little choice but to let me."
"Says you."
"Indeed."
The blond pushed away from the wall and began to cross the room; his spurs clinked with every step. They reminded Murata of American Western movies, of the cowboy making his way in the world and running up against trouble more often than not. Adelbert von Grantz certainly fit the description of a go-it-alone rogue. "Still pisses me off that they follow you and that guy so blindly."
Murata spread his hands widely at his sides. "Ah, but the Shinou can't be blamed this time." He tilted his head so the light would catch his glasses. "Any suspicion is mine to bear."
Sword-calloused fingertips grasped his chin and tilted it up, bringing his gaze up to meet Adelbert's. "You're all balls and no shame, kid," the man said in a low voice. "And there's not a speck of me that trusts you."
Dark eyes narrowed slightly. "Then why are you here?"
"I owe the brat, and he might be the only idiot worth anything in that damn country." The fingers gripped harder, and Murata forced himself to go very, very still. The others still considered Adelbert a wild card at best, an opinion he could use if the situation called for it. "But remember, any funny business, and the only Great Sage hanging around will be the one in the painting."
Perhaps the revival of the White Crows, Shibuya's capture, and the appearance of a truly formidable opponent had nudged Murata closer to the edge than he originally thought. Perhaps he was simply a sadist who liked seeing people made uncomfortable, though there was an equally good argument toward masochism for willingly bringing the anger of others down on his own head. Either way, his pulse spiked and a smile hovered on the edge of his lips.
"... if I try something 'funny', Sir von Grantz," he replied, "what makes you think you'll still be alive to see it?"
A similar, slightly unhinged smile emerged on the other's face. "You'd better hope I won't be."
"I'll keep that in mind."
Author: Apa (apapazukamori)
Characters/Pairings: Murata x Adelbert von Grantz
Word Count: 538
Rating: PG
Any Warnings: Language
Theme/Prompt being used: The Ultimate KKM Challenge
Notes: Set during the events of episode 86.
"Are you sure you're going to be able to pull this off?"
Murata watched from one of the windows as Sir Weller mounted his horse. The long white coat ruffled with the late spring breeze as it settled over the saddle and the mare's back. Under the careful watch of "FanFan" and Yozak, his mother and Sir von Bielfeld fussed over him from the ground, earning them a patient smile and words Murata couldn't hear but could assume the gist of. Finally, when the man galloped off toward Lanzil's castle, Murata turned toward the other member of the group who had remained inside. The mercenary didn't seem to mind having his question put off; he merely leaned against the wall, arms folded across his chest, blue eyes piercing and expression openly condescending.
Murata smiled. "Of course," he replied lightly. "Sir Weller can manage this part on his own."
Adelbert snorted. "I remember what happened the last time you were allowed to scheme with free rein."
"It is what I am best at," the teen replied, his own expression shifting into a slight, mocking smile. "And now, as then, there's little choice but to let me."
"Says you."
"Indeed."
The blond pushed away from the wall and began to cross the room; his spurs clinked with every step. They reminded Murata of American Western movies, of the cowboy making his way in the world and running up against trouble more often than not. Adelbert von Grantz certainly fit the description of a go-it-alone rogue. "Still pisses me off that they follow you and that guy so blindly."
Murata spread his hands widely at his sides. "Ah, but the Shinou can't be blamed this time." He tilted his head so the light would catch his glasses. "Any suspicion is mine to bear."
Sword-calloused fingertips grasped his chin and tilted it up, bringing his gaze up to meet Adelbert's. "You're all balls and no shame, kid," the man said in a low voice. "And there's not a speck of me that trusts you."
Dark eyes narrowed slightly. "Then why are you here?"
"I owe the brat, and he might be the only idiot worth anything in that damn country." The fingers gripped harder, and Murata forced himself to go very, very still. The others still considered Adelbert a wild card at best, an opinion he could use if the situation called for it. "But remember, any funny business, and the only Great Sage hanging around will be the one in the painting."
Perhaps the revival of the White Crows, Shibuya's capture, and the appearance of a truly formidable opponent had nudged Murata closer to the edge than he originally thought. Perhaps he was simply a sadist who liked seeing people made uncomfortable, though there was an equally good argument toward masochism for willingly bringing the anger of others down on his own head. Either way, his pulse spiked and a smile hovered on the edge of his lips.
"... if I try something 'funny', Sir von Grantz," he replied, "what makes you think you'll still be alive to see it?"
A similar, slightly unhinged smile emerged on the other's face. "You'd better hope I won't be."
"I'll keep that in mind."