part 221: "It's not like I can read his mind through the phone."
Previous installments are available in my Memories here. Please make sure the Memory page is set to sort by Description to get the entries in the correct order.
This piece rated NC-17.
"Glass Houses" part 221/?
By Viridian5
4/2003 - present
RATING: NC-17. If m/m interaction bothers you, pass this by. AU.
SPOILERS: Glühen.
SUMMARY: After Aya's sister dies, Schwarz tries to save themselves and Aya from the mistakes of the Dramatic CDs and Glühen Schwarz tries to save him from himself--for their own reasons, of course--and neither they nor Weiß are ever the same again.
ARCHIVAL/DISTRIBUTION: No, not yet. This is a trial run of a piece of an unfinished fic.
DISCLAIMERS: All things Weiß Kreuz belong to Koyasu Takehito, Project Weiß, Polygram k.k., and Animate Film. No infringement intended.
NOTES: Thanks to bardsley, lunarennui, thornsilver, confidentsoba, jmtorres, maitai1, kasha, and helleboredoll for audiencing, typo-watch, and encouragement. Thanks to 'nat for "puisín," which she says probably sounds like "pu-sheen." Inspirational music includes Covenant's United States of Mind, mayatawi's V Mix the Second CD (Jane Jensen, Kidneythieves, Garbage's "Butterfly Collector," Poe's rock version of "Hello," Kristen Barry's "Ordinary Life," Lacuna Coil), Linkin Park's Meteora, A Perfect Circle's Thirteenth Step, Pigface's Easy Listening..., Shriekback's "The Bastard Sons of Enoch," Zeromancer's Eurotrash, and Neuroticfish's Les Chansons Neurotiques.
I am not responsible for any therapy bills incurred as a result of trauma from doing research on things mentioned in this story. If you look up, say, "butter dog porn" on your own, I refuse to take the blame. I've been told that it's a bad idea to eat soup or drink while reading "Glass Houses."
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"Glass Houses" part 221
By Viridian5
========================
Although Schuldig had been the one complaining about the lack of sex, Crawford certainly felt the benefit of having it now. Schuldig presented such an appealing picture sitting atop and riding him, sweat sheening his skin, his usually hard blue-eyed gaze looking softer and dazed with pleasure. Crawford groaned at the hot, tight feel of his telepath's body clenching around his cock, friction, tips of his long bright hair brushing his chest on some of the strokes, and hands caressing his chest. Every motion Schuldig made demanded harder, deeper, faster strokes, and Crawford obliged him a bit, though not too much since he didn't want to finish too quickly. Despite the aching, spiraling urge to get his release, he was enjoying this too much to race to a conclusion. Felt so good.... His hands traveled from Schuldig's hips to his ass, cupping and stroking.
"Not going to... jerk me off, Brad?" Schuldig gasped.
"I'm not... feeling it at the moment."
"Ha ha. C'mon, you always... tell me I don't have much of an ass... so why don't you put those hands somewhere... they'll enjoy more and do more good?"
"I'll consider it."
Schuldig's thumbs rubbed circles around Crawford's nipples, making him moan, as Schuldig said, "Bastard. And here I am... trying to help you."
"Sure."
Schuldig tilted his head to the side a bit, obviously thinking, which offended Crawford because he shouldn't still be *able* to think that well at the moment. Then he smiled suddenly and smacked the side of Crawford's head, putting his wrist into it enough that it really stung. A few minutes later Crawford would be mortified and angry that being *slapped* had made him come, let alone that it made him come so hard, but at that moment he only knew that his whole body seemed to wring itself out in a whiplash of pleasure as he hit orgasm.
When he came to he saw his telepath bent over, still on top of him and breathing hard. "What the fuck was that?" Crawford asked, even as he felt some disappointment that Schuldig had obviously come hard all over the both of them but none of it had gotten into his long hair.
"Ah, I'm fast, remember? I pulled all my hair... behind my back as we hit jackpot. Fuck, I gotta remember that smacking move for another time."
"You are *never* slapping me again."
"Aw." Schuldig leaned back and made a sound, probably at the way it made Crawford's softening cock move within him. "Do you remember what you were trying to remember?"
His head.... He had to call his father about a head injury he'd gotten as a child because it connected to a vision he wanted but couldn't remember for himself. Rosenkreuz trained its precogs in ways to hone and retain their memories to access old visions that might be hard to interpret at the time they'd arrived but might make more sense later. The vision he wanted had come years before that training and there had been a head injury involved, but he remembered telling his father about it even if he didn't remember the details of the vision itself.
To his annoyance, his telepath looked far too self-satisfied. Crawford said, "I think I have a lead now, but don't get too smug about it."
"Never."
He wouldn't call his father while naked and splattered with come. "Ride's over, Schu. I'll come back with a washcloth for you too."
"Such a gentleman!" Schuldig moved off him and rolled so he would be lounging in the bed on his back, looking less smug and more simply satisfied.
He picked up his glasses and some clothes, disposed of the condom, and went to the bathroom to wash up and dress. Having no intentions of leaving their hotel room again soon, he only put on boxers, pants, and a sweater and only wore the sweater because he knew that if he talked on the phone shirtless Schuldig would be far too tempted to play with him, especially once he realized Crawford was talking to his father.
Looking at himself in the mirror, he still had that first second's shock of seeing his white hair. How long would it take to become accustomed to it? This was getting ridiculous.
Crawford brought out a washcloth for his telepath and thoroughly rubbed his chest and belly with it. Schuldig wriggled happily and shamelessly under it and even became half-hard. "Brad...."
"I don't have time for a second round." He balled up the washcloth and threw it into the bathroom, smiling as it went right into the sink. "I have a call to make."
Schuldig looked abruptly less sleepy and hedonistic. "Brad...."
"No."
"C'mon, I gave you the lead as well as some great sex."
"You're too distracting."
"Thank you. Now about that call...."
"No."
When Schuldig pouted, Crawford asked, "Do I have to ask you to leave the room too?"
"No."
Relenting a tiny bit, Crawford said, "You're distracting, and I don't want to be uncomfortable and stiff while speaking to my father."
"Society frowns on sons being stiff with their fathers."
"Schuldig--"
"Nah, nah. I can be good."
"You will be silent."
"Fine. That too. You seem to feel that it's an important call, so fine."
Having felt that he'd hammered his instructions home hard enough, Crawford mentally switched his internal setting to English, made the call, and heard his father pick up on the first ring, which discomfited him a bit. "Dad?"
"Brad, you forgot that your ol' Dad can see things too? I knew you'd call. It makes me happy to hear from you."
"Do you know why I'm calling?" His voice must have sounded as off-balance as he felt because he could see Schuldig bent over with *silent* laughter on the bed. He flipped Schuldig the finger.
"I didn't get that. I just know that it's not about our new grandchildren."
Now he *had* to ask about them first. "How are Verity and Misoji doing, Dad?" Although he remembered full well handing them off to his parents, he hadn't really felt enough connection to them to claim the title of their "father."
"Verity and your mother are either gleefully arguing with each other or hatching evil plans together. Eve says it's invigorating, and when your mother gets that look on her face I grab Misoji and take a walk for a while. I like Verity too, and she respects me more and maybe loves me a bit now that she knows she can't manipulate me. I'm really glad we have Misoji too. He's so smart! We do quiet things together, though he also likes to watch the poker tournaments on TV with me and help me bitch about the poker faces and strategies used. He likes to take walks and go out for rolls with me at our place. We have some of our best getting-to-know-you chats at those times. He's very respectful with Eve without letting her dictate to him too much, and she's fond of him. Your mother got him a camera but didn't shove it on him, so he might actually end up liking it."
"'Your mother'?" At least his voice remained steady. He'd figured that his father must have taken some of the others out to their bagel place but hadn't been forced to hear about it before.
"Yeah, she temporarily stops being my wife and becomes 'your mother' when she's doing things I roll my eyes at. Hey, Kenny came back and was really ticked off about us using his room for Verity and Misoji. Eve very sweetly reminded him that in that fight he had with her two days after you guys left he said he didn't have to listen to her because he didn't live under her roof anymore. She figured that between him saying he didn't live here anymore and him living with his girlfriend most of the time, as if your mother wouldn't find out about that, he didn't need the room anymore. He turned colors and pretty much lost the ability to speak for a bit then yelled kinda incoherently and stomped out of the apartment. Didn't even try to reason with her! Kenneth never could win a match against her. She likes Verity better for being able to go toe-to-toe. You should have seen the look on May's face when she saw Misoji. I think she muttered something about God laughing at her. I don't like the two kids being their ages and having to share a room, though at least we got a nice bamboo partition to give them some private space."
"I see." What else could he say? At least he enjoyed the idea of Kenneth getting some comeuppance. Once again he had to think that he took his sadism from both sides of his family. Rosenkreuz must have been thrilled to have a candidate who already had so much DNA coded for evil.
"So, now that I made you suffer through the family stuff, what were you really calling for?"
This was such a longshot, but one worth taking. "Dad, I have the feeling that a vision I had about 20 years ago might be important. I would completely understand if you don't remember the details of it, because I don't, but I hope you do remember. It came after I hit my head so hard in that fall--"
"Yes!" Dad sounded weirdly excited. "I can be a great help on that one. I hoped you'd ask someday.... Hold on a moment, son. I'll be right back."
Crawford shot a look back at Schuldig, who said in English, "It's not like I can read his mind through the phone."
"I *know*, but--"
"I'm back, Brad! You're talking about what you saw after you took that fall off the top of the monkeybars and got a concussion, right?"
"...yes. I was responding to a challenge from Johnny Rossi."
"Other kids saw that his horsing around helped knock you off once you got to the very top. We were pissed once we heard about all that. Eve was ready to go crack his head and his parents' too but I managed to get it through *her* head that she'd get arrested. She must have gotten some vengeance somewhere, though."
"I think I remember other kids his age making fun of Johnny after that for being a twelve-year-old playing with a five-year-old." It had been weird because no other kids Johnny's age had been around, and Crawford couldn't see kids his age approaching older ones and being believed.
"That could be her doing somehow. I love that woman. Okay. You said that you didn't know if this was a vision or just something you saw from hitting your head so hard, so you wanted to run it past me. You said it was like you were inside a grownup's body looking out, being there. There were two people in front of you, this one guy with his arm resting on the shoulders of another guy, his arm partly around the guy's neck. You said that arm didn't look friendly somehow. The guy under the arm had long hair and weird clothes, like he might be a rockstar, but he had teartracks on his face like a baby. You said you were surrounded by guys who had different hair but the same face as the rockstar guy and they made you feel uncomfortable. They were trouble. The arm guy smiled and shook the rockstar guy in a not-friendly way. Rockstar guy sounded sick when he said, 'Kill him.' All the other guys mobbed the guy you were inside and that's the end."
He'd foreseen his own death--his original timeline death, as Schuldig had spoken of--at the age of five. Shaken, Crawford said as he processed it, "Dad, that's a lot of detail."
"Most of the stuff I see is near-term, but some of it I don't recognize but write down in my journal in case it turns out helpful later. I made a journal for you too, son, and that vision is the only thing written in it. Wait a minute. The 'rockstar' with the long hair, is that--"
"Dad."
"And the other ones with the same face as him, they're like Mis--"
"*Dad*."
"I'm right."
"Yes, Dad."
"What are you doing to stop that? I know Schu wouldn't do that if he were in his right mind, and from what you said back then it sounds like he might have been under major duress. Who's the other guy?" Dad sounded ready to kill the "other guy" himself.
Crawford figured that they'd prevented that event but would like more certainty. "Did I give you a description of the other guy?"
"Not really, just that he played at being friendly with the rockstar but you could tell he wasn't. He didn't claim as much of your attention."
Crawford could just see Schuldig poking him about having been fixated on him since the age of five. "I believe that we prevented that from happening. We're working to make sure of it. Things have been really weird here."
"I'm getting that impression. You're taking care of yourself?"
"Yes, and my family here as well. None of us are injured." Not now. A day earlier the report would have been very different. "I think we may be getting to the end of our work here." He certainly hoped so. "Dad, aren't you worried about keeping a journal? Especially after you had all that attention before?" His father had made a journal for him and kept it....
That was... very touching. And probably foolhardy.
"I use script for my journal. My mother always said I should have become a doctor for how illegible it is. People at work make me write in print or type in word processing. Nobody's gonna be able to read it. The books don't look like what people would expect either. It's nice to hear that you worry about your ol' Dad."
"Well, yes." Since he could *feel* his telepath convulsing with silent laughter on the bed behind him, he flipped Schuldig the bird again. "It was... good talking to you, Dad. I'm glad everyone's all right and the new living situation is working out."
"We love having them. It's like a shot of adrenaline. I'll give your love to the kids. Goodbye, Brad."
"Bye, Dad." He hung up the phone.
"I like your dad," Schuldig said, completely without sarcasm. He'd probably like Crawford's dad even more if he could have heard more of the conversation.
His dad apparently liked Schuldig too. "It's nice that you like him, but it's not like I'd get a different one if you didn't."
Schuldig stuck his tongue out at him. "Such a hard-ass, you are. Want to come over here so I can feel it for myself?"
"Tempting, but I have things to think about."
"Sure, sure. Like how we're going to distribute the cure words, right?"
Crawford forgot sometimes that Schuldig being naked and horny didn't mean he stopped thinking. Crawford answered, "I've been thinking about that the last few days. The cure words are very valuable. How much should we charge for something we fought so hard to get that could give these people freedom and peace of mind? Those cure words are no small things."
Obviously irritated, Schuldig asked, "Are you gonna charge our kids too?"
Although he really wanted to say that Verity was "theirs" only through DNA and Misoji only to make it easier to get Verity out of Europe and although Schuldig had often said in the past that no one could screw you over better than family, Crawford knew it would be idiocy to say any of that. It wouldn't sound good. Besides, he could imagine his parents' reaction to him shaking down his kids for cash, especially involving something that could enslave them if he didn't have it removed.
"No."
"You're gonna charge *my* kids?"
The Emories. Schuldig still remained insanely attached to them.
"Are you counting the Orange and Guilty lines alone or all the ones who have some of your genes? Are we going to do blood tests? Do you section off the ones who look like you or are related to you and tell the rest that it's tough luck?"
"Does it look like the Bruise has money? They were derelicts, many of them hardly able to move on their own for the longest time let alone work for a living. The rest of the kids are mostly students, hardly people with a good income either. You're gonna demand payment and tell the ones who can't afford it to take a hike? Are you going to accept payment installments? Will you charge interest? If they miss a payment or default, will Schwarz become a collection agency, chase them down wherever they run to, break their legs, and take whatever money they have? Unless you're letting me adopt the Bruise, in which case Schwarz will know exactly where 50 of about 400 kids are."
"We're not adopting the Bruise." While Schuldig made some excellent points otherwise, Crawford couldn't back down. "How does Schwarz operate? ¿Dónde está el dinero? Remember? Aside from what we made working for Kritiker here and my own solo job, this has been a very dry run and very costly in room, board, transportation, ammunition, and outsourcing."
"So we make up for it off the hides of these kids? There are a few hundred of them. We don't have to charge that much to make a nice little profit."
"You weren't always so soft."
"They're *mine*, Brad." Schuldig's fierce look had nothing soft in it. "I know it and, better yet, *they* know it. They love me."
"Their love is worth turning down a profit? You took big risks to get those words, and you should be compensated."
"If you charge them hard, they won't blame *me* for it. They'll put it all on you. You saw how the Bruise wanted to protect me from you."
"They wanted to score points with you. Are you really this desperate for pets?"
"You're feeling so fucking threatened by these kids that you're missing the big picture."
"Not at all. You think that if we charge them lightly they'll be thankful toward us and may turn out to be a useful resource in the future, especially since many of them already like you."
"Yes. Maybe you are listening."
"I'll think about it."
"Think fast. The longer we leave them waiting in limbo for a cure the more likely something's going to go wrong, rile them up, and make the situation harder to control."
"You're telling me how to run things?"
Sculdig grinned, bright and evil, more menacing now than sexy even though he wore nothing more than his emerald navel piercing. "Always have been, stud."
Schuldig had become far more forward and open lately in suggesting how Crawford should run the team, especially since their time at Ebenroth's school. Crawford knew that some of the kids thought Crawford held Schuldig back, and he remembered how the Bruise had sat around Schuldig at his feet as if to protect their liege.
"I prefer the older, subtler methods."
"What, when I did it but didn't admit to it? That's not so much subtler. Besides, it shows my respect that I'm approaching you in an upfront manner."
"As opposed to how you felt before?"
"Don't ask questions you don't want answered. Or need answered. You know how we used to be. You were there." *Very* casually Schuldig asked, "Do you wanna go back to that?"
He didn't even have to think about it long. "No. I'm satisfied with things as they've developed."
Crawford hadn't realized how much Schuldig's body had tensed until it loosened now. Schuldig answered, "I strive to satisfy."
"Unless you're striving to drive someone insane through obnoxiousness."
"Some people find that satisfying."
"I'm thinking on how to deal with the cure words, and I'll issue my decision tomorrow. Now that Aya is conscious I want to wrap up our time in Vienna as quickly as possible. We're going to check out Rosenkreuz's ruins as well. Then we return to Tokyo and business."
"It's been a while since we've had a fairly straightforward assignment. I miss them."
It made Crawford smile. "You killed Breaker only days ago."
"That was only telepathic murder. It's so much better when it's physical. More fun. Besides, you know how much I love to handle my gun."
"Just *your* gun?"
"Your gun too. Is that a request?"
"Perhaps." Crawford took off his glasses and sat on the bed.
Schuldig rested his fluffy head on Crawford's thigh, looked up, and said, "I need something more definite. I wouldn't want to force myself on you."
"Sure. Feel free to handle me."
Schuldig made an amused and greedy sound as he started to stroke Crawford through his pants. It was good to be alive... and good to have confirmation on a horrible future averted. Schuldig, struggling and enslaved, with *tears* on his face, commanding his clones to kill....
Crawford would wait a while before telling Schuldig about that vision.
This piece rated NC-17.
"Glass Houses" part 221/?
By Viridian5
4/2003 - present
RATING: NC-17. If m/m interaction bothers you, pass this by. AU.
SPOILERS: Glühen.
SUMMARY: After Aya's sister dies, Schwarz tries to save themselves and Aya from the mistakes of the Dramatic CDs and Glühen Schwarz tries to save him from himself--for their own reasons, of course--and neither they nor Weiß are ever the same again.
ARCHIVAL/DISTRIBUTION: No, not yet. This is a trial run of a piece of an unfinished fic.
DISCLAIMERS: All things Weiß Kreuz belong to Koyasu Takehito, Project Weiß, Polygram k.k., and Animate Film. No infringement intended.
NOTES: Thanks to bardsley, lunarennui, thornsilver, confidentsoba, jmtorres, maitai1, kasha, and helleboredoll for audiencing, typo-watch, and encouragement. Thanks to 'nat for "puisín," which she says probably sounds like "pu-sheen." Inspirational music includes Covenant's United States of Mind, mayatawi's V Mix the Second CD (Jane Jensen, Kidneythieves, Garbage's "Butterfly Collector," Poe's rock version of "Hello," Kristen Barry's "Ordinary Life," Lacuna Coil), Linkin Park's Meteora, A Perfect Circle's Thirteenth Step, Pigface's Easy Listening..., Shriekback's "The Bastard Sons of Enoch," Zeromancer's Eurotrash, and Neuroticfish's Les Chansons Neurotiques.
I am not responsible for any therapy bills incurred as a result of trauma from doing research on things mentioned in this story. If you look up, say, "butter dog porn" on your own, I refuse to take the blame. I've been told that it's a bad idea to eat soup or drink while reading "Glass Houses."
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"Glass Houses" part 221
By Viridian5
========================
Although Schuldig had been the one complaining about the lack of sex, Crawford certainly felt the benefit of having it now. Schuldig presented such an appealing picture sitting atop and riding him, sweat sheening his skin, his usually hard blue-eyed gaze looking softer and dazed with pleasure. Crawford groaned at the hot, tight feel of his telepath's body clenching around his cock, friction, tips of his long bright hair brushing his chest on some of the strokes, and hands caressing his chest. Every motion Schuldig made demanded harder, deeper, faster strokes, and Crawford obliged him a bit, though not too much since he didn't want to finish too quickly. Despite the aching, spiraling urge to get his release, he was enjoying this too much to race to a conclusion. Felt so good.... His hands traveled from Schuldig's hips to his ass, cupping and stroking.
"Not going to... jerk me off, Brad?" Schuldig gasped.
"I'm not... feeling it at the moment."
"Ha ha. C'mon, you always... tell me I don't have much of an ass... so why don't you put those hands somewhere... they'll enjoy more and do more good?"
"I'll consider it."
Schuldig's thumbs rubbed circles around Crawford's nipples, making him moan, as Schuldig said, "Bastard. And here I am... trying to help you."
"Sure."
Schuldig tilted his head to the side a bit, obviously thinking, which offended Crawford because he shouldn't still be *able* to think that well at the moment. Then he smiled suddenly and smacked the side of Crawford's head, putting his wrist into it enough that it really stung. A few minutes later Crawford would be mortified and angry that being *slapped* had made him come, let alone that it made him come so hard, but at that moment he only knew that his whole body seemed to wring itself out in a whiplash of pleasure as he hit orgasm.
When he came to he saw his telepath bent over, still on top of him and breathing hard. "What the fuck was that?" Crawford asked, even as he felt some disappointment that Schuldig had obviously come hard all over the both of them but none of it had gotten into his long hair.
"Ah, I'm fast, remember? I pulled all my hair... behind my back as we hit jackpot. Fuck, I gotta remember that smacking move for another time."
"You are *never* slapping me again."
"Aw." Schuldig leaned back and made a sound, probably at the way it made Crawford's softening cock move within him. "Do you remember what you were trying to remember?"
His head.... He had to call his father about a head injury he'd gotten as a child because it connected to a vision he wanted but couldn't remember for himself. Rosenkreuz trained its precogs in ways to hone and retain their memories to access old visions that might be hard to interpret at the time they'd arrived but might make more sense later. The vision he wanted had come years before that training and there had been a head injury involved, but he remembered telling his father about it even if he didn't remember the details of the vision itself.
To his annoyance, his telepath looked far too self-satisfied. Crawford said, "I think I have a lead now, but don't get too smug about it."
"Never."
He wouldn't call his father while naked and splattered with come. "Ride's over, Schu. I'll come back with a washcloth for you too."
"Such a gentleman!" Schuldig moved off him and rolled so he would be lounging in the bed on his back, looking less smug and more simply satisfied.
He picked up his glasses and some clothes, disposed of the condom, and went to the bathroom to wash up and dress. Having no intentions of leaving their hotel room again soon, he only put on boxers, pants, and a sweater and only wore the sweater because he knew that if he talked on the phone shirtless Schuldig would be far too tempted to play with him, especially once he realized Crawford was talking to his father.
Looking at himself in the mirror, he still had that first second's shock of seeing his white hair. How long would it take to become accustomed to it? This was getting ridiculous.
Crawford brought out a washcloth for his telepath and thoroughly rubbed his chest and belly with it. Schuldig wriggled happily and shamelessly under it and even became half-hard. "Brad...."
"I don't have time for a second round." He balled up the washcloth and threw it into the bathroom, smiling as it went right into the sink. "I have a call to make."
Schuldig looked abruptly less sleepy and hedonistic. "Brad...."
"No."
"C'mon, I gave you the lead as well as some great sex."
"You're too distracting."
"Thank you. Now about that call...."
"No."
When Schuldig pouted, Crawford asked, "Do I have to ask you to leave the room too?"
"No."
Relenting a tiny bit, Crawford said, "You're distracting, and I don't want to be uncomfortable and stiff while speaking to my father."
"Society frowns on sons being stiff with their fathers."
"Schuldig--"
"Nah, nah. I can be good."
"You will be silent."
"Fine. That too. You seem to feel that it's an important call, so fine."
Having felt that he'd hammered his instructions home hard enough, Crawford mentally switched his internal setting to English, made the call, and heard his father pick up on the first ring, which discomfited him a bit. "Dad?"
"Brad, you forgot that your ol' Dad can see things too? I knew you'd call. It makes me happy to hear from you."
"Do you know why I'm calling?" His voice must have sounded as off-balance as he felt because he could see Schuldig bent over with *silent* laughter on the bed. He flipped Schuldig the finger.
"I didn't get that. I just know that it's not about our new grandchildren."
Now he *had* to ask about them first. "How are Verity and Misoji doing, Dad?" Although he remembered full well handing them off to his parents, he hadn't really felt enough connection to them to claim the title of their "father."
"Verity and your mother are either gleefully arguing with each other or hatching evil plans together. Eve says it's invigorating, and when your mother gets that look on her face I grab Misoji and take a walk for a while. I like Verity too, and she respects me more and maybe loves me a bit now that she knows she can't manipulate me. I'm really glad we have Misoji too. He's so smart! We do quiet things together, though he also likes to watch the poker tournaments on TV with me and help me bitch about the poker faces and strategies used. He likes to take walks and go out for rolls with me at our place. We have some of our best getting-to-know-you chats at those times. He's very respectful with Eve without letting her dictate to him too much, and she's fond of him. Your mother got him a camera but didn't shove it on him, so he might actually end up liking it."
"'Your mother'?" At least his voice remained steady. He'd figured that his father must have taken some of the others out to their bagel place but hadn't been forced to hear about it before.
"Yeah, she temporarily stops being my wife and becomes 'your mother' when she's doing things I roll my eyes at. Hey, Kenny came back and was really ticked off about us using his room for Verity and Misoji. Eve very sweetly reminded him that in that fight he had with her two days after you guys left he said he didn't have to listen to her because he didn't live under her roof anymore. She figured that between him saying he didn't live here anymore and him living with his girlfriend most of the time, as if your mother wouldn't find out about that, he didn't need the room anymore. He turned colors and pretty much lost the ability to speak for a bit then yelled kinda incoherently and stomped out of the apartment. Didn't even try to reason with her! Kenneth never could win a match against her. She likes Verity better for being able to go toe-to-toe. You should have seen the look on May's face when she saw Misoji. I think she muttered something about God laughing at her. I don't like the two kids being their ages and having to share a room, though at least we got a nice bamboo partition to give them some private space."
"I see." What else could he say? At least he enjoyed the idea of Kenneth getting some comeuppance. Once again he had to think that he took his sadism from both sides of his family. Rosenkreuz must have been thrilled to have a candidate who already had so much DNA coded for evil.
"So, now that I made you suffer through the family stuff, what were you really calling for?"
This was such a longshot, but one worth taking. "Dad, I have the feeling that a vision I had about 20 years ago might be important. I would completely understand if you don't remember the details of it, because I don't, but I hope you do remember. It came after I hit my head so hard in that fall--"
"Yes!" Dad sounded weirdly excited. "I can be a great help on that one. I hoped you'd ask someday.... Hold on a moment, son. I'll be right back."
Crawford shot a look back at Schuldig, who said in English, "It's not like I can read his mind through the phone."
"I *know*, but--"
"I'm back, Brad! You're talking about what you saw after you took that fall off the top of the monkeybars and got a concussion, right?"
"...yes. I was responding to a challenge from Johnny Rossi."
"Other kids saw that his horsing around helped knock you off once you got to the very top. We were pissed once we heard about all that. Eve was ready to go crack his head and his parents' too but I managed to get it through *her* head that she'd get arrested. She must have gotten some vengeance somewhere, though."
"I think I remember other kids his age making fun of Johnny after that for being a twelve-year-old playing with a five-year-old." It had been weird because no other kids Johnny's age had been around, and Crawford couldn't see kids his age approaching older ones and being believed.
"That could be her doing somehow. I love that woman. Okay. You said that you didn't know if this was a vision or just something you saw from hitting your head so hard, so you wanted to run it past me. You said it was like you were inside a grownup's body looking out, being there. There were two people in front of you, this one guy with his arm resting on the shoulders of another guy, his arm partly around the guy's neck. You said that arm didn't look friendly somehow. The guy under the arm had long hair and weird clothes, like he might be a rockstar, but he had teartracks on his face like a baby. You said you were surrounded by guys who had different hair but the same face as the rockstar guy and they made you feel uncomfortable. They were trouble. The arm guy smiled and shook the rockstar guy in a not-friendly way. Rockstar guy sounded sick when he said, 'Kill him.' All the other guys mobbed the guy you were inside and that's the end."
He'd foreseen his own death--his original timeline death, as Schuldig had spoken of--at the age of five. Shaken, Crawford said as he processed it, "Dad, that's a lot of detail."
"Most of the stuff I see is near-term, but some of it I don't recognize but write down in my journal in case it turns out helpful later. I made a journal for you too, son, and that vision is the only thing written in it. Wait a minute. The 'rockstar' with the long hair, is that--"
"Dad."
"And the other ones with the same face as him, they're like Mis--"
"*Dad*."
"I'm right."
"Yes, Dad."
"What are you doing to stop that? I know Schu wouldn't do that if he were in his right mind, and from what you said back then it sounds like he might have been under major duress. Who's the other guy?" Dad sounded ready to kill the "other guy" himself.
Crawford figured that they'd prevented that event but would like more certainty. "Did I give you a description of the other guy?"
"Not really, just that he played at being friendly with the rockstar but you could tell he wasn't. He didn't claim as much of your attention."
Crawford could just see Schuldig poking him about having been fixated on him since the age of five. "I believe that we prevented that from happening. We're working to make sure of it. Things have been really weird here."
"I'm getting that impression. You're taking care of yourself?"
"Yes, and my family here as well. None of us are injured." Not now. A day earlier the report would have been very different. "I think we may be getting to the end of our work here." He certainly hoped so. "Dad, aren't you worried about keeping a journal? Especially after you had all that attention before?" His father had made a journal for him and kept it....
That was... very touching. And probably foolhardy.
"I use script for my journal. My mother always said I should have become a doctor for how illegible it is. People at work make me write in print or type in word processing. Nobody's gonna be able to read it. The books don't look like what people would expect either. It's nice to hear that you worry about your ol' Dad."
"Well, yes." Since he could *feel* his telepath convulsing with silent laughter on the bed behind him, he flipped Schuldig the bird again. "It was... good talking to you, Dad. I'm glad everyone's all right and the new living situation is working out."
"We love having them. It's like a shot of adrenaline. I'll give your love to the kids. Goodbye, Brad."
"Bye, Dad." He hung up the phone.
"I like your dad," Schuldig said, completely without sarcasm. He'd probably like Crawford's dad even more if he could have heard more of the conversation.
His dad apparently liked Schuldig too. "It's nice that you like him, but it's not like I'd get a different one if you didn't."
Schuldig stuck his tongue out at him. "Such a hard-ass, you are. Want to come over here so I can feel it for myself?"
"Tempting, but I have things to think about."
"Sure, sure. Like how we're going to distribute the cure words, right?"
Crawford forgot sometimes that Schuldig being naked and horny didn't mean he stopped thinking. Crawford answered, "I've been thinking about that the last few days. The cure words are very valuable. How much should we charge for something we fought so hard to get that could give these people freedom and peace of mind? Those cure words are no small things."
Obviously irritated, Schuldig asked, "Are you gonna charge our kids too?"
Although he really wanted to say that Verity was "theirs" only through DNA and Misoji only to make it easier to get Verity out of Europe and although Schuldig had often said in the past that no one could screw you over better than family, Crawford knew it would be idiocy to say any of that. It wouldn't sound good. Besides, he could imagine his parents' reaction to him shaking down his kids for cash, especially involving something that could enslave them if he didn't have it removed.
"No."
"You're gonna charge *my* kids?"
The Emories. Schuldig still remained insanely attached to them.
"Are you counting the Orange and Guilty lines alone or all the ones who have some of your genes? Are we going to do blood tests? Do you section off the ones who look like you or are related to you and tell the rest that it's tough luck?"
"Does it look like the Bruise has money? They were derelicts, many of them hardly able to move on their own for the longest time let alone work for a living. The rest of the kids are mostly students, hardly people with a good income either. You're gonna demand payment and tell the ones who can't afford it to take a hike? Are you going to accept payment installments? Will you charge interest? If they miss a payment or default, will Schwarz become a collection agency, chase them down wherever they run to, break their legs, and take whatever money they have? Unless you're letting me adopt the Bruise, in which case Schwarz will know exactly where 50 of about 400 kids are."
"We're not adopting the Bruise." While Schuldig made some excellent points otherwise, Crawford couldn't back down. "How does Schwarz operate? ¿Dónde está el dinero? Remember? Aside from what we made working for Kritiker here and my own solo job, this has been a very dry run and very costly in room, board, transportation, ammunition, and outsourcing."
"So we make up for it off the hides of these kids? There are a few hundred of them. We don't have to charge that much to make a nice little profit."
"You weren't always so soft."
"They're *mine*, Brad." Schuldig's fierce look had nothing soft in it. "I know it and, better yet, *they* know it. They love me."
"Their love is worth turning down a profit? You took big risks to get those words, and you should be compensated."
"If you charge them hard, they won't blame *me* for it. They'll put it all on you. You saw how the Bruise wanted to protect me from you."
"They wanted to score points with you. Are you really this desperate for pets?"
"You're feeling so fucking threatened by these kids that you're missing the big picture."
"Not at all. You think that if we charge them lightly they'll be thankful toward us and may turn out to be a useful resource in the future, especially since many of them already like you."
"Yes. Maybe you are listening."
"I'll think about it."
"Think fast. The longer we leave them waiting in limbo for a cure the more likely something's going to go wrong, rile them up, and make the situation harder to control."
"You're telling me how to run things?"
Sculdig grinned, bright and evil, more menacing now than sexy even though he wore nothing more than his emerald navel piercing. "Always have been, stud."
Schuldig had become far more forward and open lately in suggesting how Crawford should run the team, especially since their time at Ebenroth's school. Crawford knew that some of the kids thought Crawford held Schuldig back, and he remembered how the Bruise had sat around Schuldig at his feet as if to protect their liege.
"I prefer the older, subtler methods."
"What, when I did it but didn't admit to it? That's not so much subtler. Besides, it shows my respect that I'm approaching you in an upfront manner."
"As opposed to how you felt before?"
"Don't ask questions you don't want answered. Or need answered. You know how we used to be. You were there." *Very* casually Schuldig asked, "Do you wanna go back to that?"
He didn't even have to think about it long. "No. I'm satisfied with things as they've developed."
Crawford hadn't realized how much Schuldig's body had tensed until it loosened now. Schuldig answered, "I strive to satisfy."
"Unless you're striving to drive someone insane through obnoxiousness."
"Some people find that satisfying."
"I'm thinking on how to deal with the cure words, and I'll issue my decision tomorrow. Now that Aya is conscious I want to wrap up our time in Vienna as quickly as possible. We're going to check out Rosenkreuz's ruins as well. Then we return to Tokyo and business."
"It's been a while since we've had a fairly straightforward assignment. I miss them."
It made Crawford smile. "You killed Breaker only days ago."
"That was only telepathic murder. It's so much better when it's physical. More fun. Besides, you know how much I love to handle my gun."
"Just *your* gun?"
"Your gun too. Is that a request?"
"Perhaps." Crawford took off his glasses and sat on the bed.
Schuldig rested his fluffy head on Crawford's thigh, looked up, and said, "I need something more definite. I wouldn't want to force myself on you."
"Sure. Feel free to handle me."
Schuldig made an amused and greedy sound as he started to stroke Crawford through his pants. It was good to be alive... and good to have confirmation on a horrible future averted. Schuldig, struggling and enslaved, with *tears* on his face, commanding his clones to kill....
Crawford would wait a while before telling Schuldig about that vision.