Deep Inside of You part 13
It was only 10:30 a.m. and Ken was ready to quit.
There was no earthly reason for the rush of business at the flower shop. It just seemed that every middle-aged housewife in the entire city had chosen today to buy fresh flowers, and they all just had to get them from the Koneko. Around 9:45, before he’d been completely swamped, Ken had idly wondered if perhaps all the giggling schoolgirls who regularly infested the place in the afternoons had coordinated an attack by their mothers.
The joke was not as funny now as it had seemed then.
Unlike the girls who thronged the shop after school let out, these women were not idly browsing, maybe one or two buying single blooms just as an excuse to stay around. No, these women meant business. They were serious about their flowers, and they wanted to be taken care of now.
And they just kept coming. The bell over the door seemed to be constantly tinkling, to the point that Ken was about ready to rip it off and stomp it to death on the sidewalk before running madly down the street ahead of the horde of angry customers demanding very specific and intricate arrangements.
Instead, he wrapped up the current bouquet, noting with a sinking feeling that he was down to the last stack of tissue paper behind the counter, and smiled with weary, brittle politeness at the frowning woman who examined his work critically. Apparently deciding with a small sigh that while it was hardly worth the money, the bouquet would just have to do, she paid him and began fighting her way through the press of very vocal, very annoyed women towards the door.
Ken slammed the cash register drawer closed with a bit more than necessary force and plastered the how-may-I-help-you smile on his face before lifting his head to greet the next customer in line.
"Welcome to the Kitten in the House, how can I what the hell are you doing here?" he concluded, rather more sharply than he had begun. The smile gave way to an infuriated scowl, and God that felt good. He was almost happy to see the man standing on the other side of the counter, because this was somebody he could be pissy at without losing a sale…
Schuldig blinked at him in surprise, sharp brows lifting as he grinned in mild amusement at Ken’s wrath. "Somebody rub your fur the wrong way, Hidaka?" the German drawled. "Or is it that nobody’s rubbing your fur at all that’s bothering you?"
Ken’s relief at having someone to vent his frustration at dimmed a bit at that remark. "That was just mean," he pointed out irritably.
Schuldig smirked at him, but managed to sound sincere as he said, "You’re right, sorry."
Not entirely mollified by the apology, Ken shot back, "It’s not like you’re getting your itch scratched, either."
Schuldig scowled at him, and Ken felt a bit better for having evened the score, though now he felt slightly guilty for the remark. He sighed.
"What do you want?" he asked in a neutral tone, keeping an eye on the horde of frowning women hovering just behind the German. For some reason, no one was pushing at him or urging him to hurry up. Maybe because he was a head taller than all of them.
"Is Yohji around?" Schuldig asked.
Ken’s scowl returned. "Don’t you know?" he snapped irritably.
Schuldig shrugged, his face expressionless. "Thought he might be sleeping or something," he replied noncommittally.
Ken sighed heavily, his frustration level rocketing upward again as he replied tightly to the question. "No, Yohji is not around. And before you ask, I have no fucking clue where he is. He’s supposed to be here, but he is, obviously, not. Omi is in school. Momoe-san is visiting relatives in Osaka. Momoe-san’s cat is at the kennel. There is absolutely nobody here but me, you, and about five hundred impatient customers! Does that cover everything?" he demanded, a bit too loudly, judging by the disapproving frowns he got from the nearest customers.
"Yeah, yeah, I got it," Schuldig replied mildly, holding his hands up in a placating gesture. After a brief pause, he added, "So you don’t know when he’ll be back?"
"Go away before I am forced to do something we’ll both regret with the ribbon shears," Ken growled softly at the older man.
Apparently the gleam of madness showed in his eyes, because Schuldig, with his hands still raised and a slightly bemused grin, backed away from the counter.
The brief, strange interlude over, Ken returned to his punishment from God for being the responsible one. If it were Yohji stuck here alone, he would have just closed the shop and gone to take a nap, never mind that they depended on the flower sales for their income now.
The next customer was determined to force Ken to abandon his safe bastion behind the register, because she had an order to be picked up in the back somewhere. That was just great. He was alone, how was he supposed to go in back and find the arrangement when the whole store was packed with customers…
"I can watch the register," Schuldig offered, reappearing beside the counter. Apparently he hadn’t been scared off by Ken’s little display of temper after all.
Ken stared at him in surprise, waiting for the cruel joke to be revealed, but Schuldig just stared back questioningly. Realizing the offer was genuine, Ken felt a sudden urge to hug the man in relief.
"Let’s not get carried away," Schuldig warned him wryly, smirking in response to Ken’s mood swing. "Just run back and find your flowers, Kenken."
Ken nodded and headed quickly for the back, not even minding the annoying nickname for once.
Ten minutes later he was ready to scream as he searched through the packed refrigeration units holding the stored arrangements. They had a wedding coming up in a couple days, and Omi had been working on the arrangements the previous night, packing them into the refrigerators…wherever there was an open space. In some ways, Omi was meticulously organized, and in others he was not. Well, that wasn’t exactly true, Ken was sure if Omi were there he would be able to locate the arrangement Ken was looking for immediately, but the point was that Omi wasn’t there. Nobody was there but Ken, and Ken had no fucking idea where this one particular arrangement might be, and he had to find it now before those women overran Schuldig, or the German simply got bored with just standing behind the counter and wandered off or…or Ken’s head exploded from the stress…
"God damn it Aya!" he yelled suddenly. "At least you kept things fucking organized around here!" He slammed the glass door closed much too hard, jarring his wrist painfully with the impact. He cradled the wounded hand to his chest, cursing and feeling a few tears of harried frustration escape his eyes.
/ Uh…you okay back there? / Schuldig’s voice sounded, a bit hesitantly, in his head.
Ken forced himself to take a deep breath and let it out slowly. He was okay. Of course he was okay. It had been a very stressful morning, but…he could handle it. He could. He could handle being left alone.
I can’t find this damn arrangement, he thought back wearily.
There was silence for a moment, then suddenly a picture of a flower arrangement, in exquisite detail, appeared in his head. / Does that help? That’s what she thinks it should look like, / Schuldig offered.
Ken blinked in surprise, then closed his eyes to see the picture more clearly. He opened his eyes again, and spotted it almost immediately. Yeah, got it, thanks, he thought gratefully at the German, who didn’t reply.
Ken dug the arrangement out of the refrigerator, checking the name on the stake just to be sure, but he’d found the right one. Never thought telepathy could be so useful for inventory, Ken thought to himself, his normal cheerful mood somewhat restored as he took a moment to run a damp paper towel over his face to wipe away any trace of his brief bout of hysteria. Schuldig hadn’t sounded frantic in his mind, so presumably the German could handle standing behind the counter for a few more minutes.
Feeling a little more in control of the situation, Ken finally returned to the shop floor, carrying the arrangement over to the register, where Schuldig was standing.
Ken frowned in confusion as he approached. From here, it almost looked like Schuldig was punching the keys on the cranky old register…
The bell rang on a sale. He was running the register.
Ken stepped up beside the older man and set the flower arrangement down on the counter absently. He watched in bemusement as Schuldig took a handful of cash from an almost pleasantly smiling woman, made change quickly from the drawer, and sent her off with a courteous smile and the hope that she would visit the shop again.
Schuldig turned toward Ken and grinned as if at some private joke. "I can run the register for a while," he offered unexpectedly.
"But…why? How?" Ken asked in confusion. Their register was practically an antique. It had taken them all weeks to learn how to run it…
"Yohji knows how," Schuldig pointed out, flashing that conspiratorial grin again.
"That doesn’t answer the why," Ken pointed out.
Schuldig shrugged. "I don’t have anything better to do," he replied carelessly.
Ken stared at Schuldig incredulously for a few moments, then gave a shrug of his own. He wasn’t going to turn down any help he was offered after the morning he’d had. Hell, if Farferello had wandered in and offered to trim the stems, Ken might have handed over the shears without a second thought.
"Okay, thanks," he said quickly, turning away and melting into the crowd before the German could realize what a foolish offer he’d just made.
After about two hours, the crowd began to thin out a bit as the women wandered off to find lunch. When the last customer went out the door, Schuldig closed it behind her and turned the lock, flipping the sign to read ‘closed.’
"Hey, it’s only noon, we can’t close," Ken protested weakly, even as he slumped wearily into a seat at the table they sometimes built arrangements on when business was slow.
Schuldig leaned against the door and gave Ken an incredulous look.
After about the third time he’d been forced to leave the register by some agitated customer, the German had taken off his overcoat so it wouldn’t get dirty or wet and hung it on one of the apron pegs. He was now wearing Yohji’s black apron over his own surprisingly normal white dress shirt and tan pants. The top few buttons on the shirt were open, flashing collarbone and smooth skin down to the top of the apron, but other than that the outfit was remarkably conservative for someone Ken had last seen in studded leather and vinyl.
"I don’t wander the streets dressed like that in the daytime," Schuldig informed him with a twisted sort of smirk. "Not anymore, anyway."
Ken frowned at him, not understanding the remark, but shrugged it away when Schuldig didn’t look inclined to explain. "You look different with your hair pulled back," he observed.
Schuldig frowned slightly, and reached a hand up to the back of his head, tugging at the long red ponytail restrained by the scrunchie Yohji kept in his apron pocket. Yohji usually pulled his hair back when working at the shop. Schuldig grinned ruefully as he tugged the scrunchie off. "Didn’t realize I’d done that," he muttered, shoving it back into the apron pocket.
He pushed away from the door and wandered over to the table, ignoring the other empty chairs and simply sprawling backwards across the wooden surface, his head coming to rest next to the spot where Ken had his own pillowed on his crossed arms.
"I don’t know how you guys did this all day and then went out and killed people at night," Schuldig declared.
"It’s not usually this bad," Ken replied slowly. "I’ve only ever seen the shop this busy a few times when it wasn’t a big flower holiday. And there’s usually more than one person working, although sometimes we can’t fit the schedule now that…there’s just the three of us and Momoe-san," he explained, hesitating a bit over the subject of Aya’s absence.
"She’s a cagey one, that Momoe," Schuldig remarked, either having missed Ken’s hesitation, which was unlikely, or just tactfully changing the subject, which Ken would have thought equally unlikely until recently. "I never could read her well enough to know for sure if she had any idea what you guys did in the basement after hours or not."
"Of course she did, she’s ex-Kritiker," Ken explained, letting his eyes drift shut for a moment.
There was silence for a few minutes, then Schuldig said slowly, "It’s nice that you trust me…but maybe you shouldn’t trust me too much, Kenken."
"Don’t call me that," Ken muttered irritably. "And why shouldn’t I trust you? What the hell does any of it matter anyway? There is no more Kritiker, there is no more Weiss. We’re all just florists now. And we probably won’t even be that for much longer," he concluded gloomily.
"Why won’t you be florists?" Schuldig asked, avoiding the issue of the existence of Kritiker and Weiss, as well as why Ken shouldn’t trust him too much. Ken filed this observation away quietly, but didn’t dwell on it.
Ken sighed. "Well, Omi will be graduating soon, and then I’m sure he’ll go to college. He’s got the brains for it, and he deserves to have a better life than the one he got stuck with here. Aya’s already long gone, we haven’t heard from him since he left. And Yohji…well, retail isn’t really his thing, you know? I’m sure he’ll want to go do something more glamorous or at least less strenuous one of these days…"
"And what about Ken?" Schuldig asked curiously.
Ken opened one eye to peer at the redhead. Schuldig had his head turned to the side, watching Ken with a sort of sleepy interest. "Why do you care?" Ken asked, not suspiciously, just in honest confusion. He could understand the German wanting to discuss Yohji, but his plans?
Schuldig shrugged, which looked odd with his back flat on the table. "You know how often I get to have even a semi-normal conversation with a sane, sober human being who isn’t trying to fuck with me in some way?" he asked pointedly.
"No," Ken replied honestly.
Schuldig smirked at him. "Well, it isn’t often," he stated dryly.
"Hn," Ken grunted, grinning a bit.
After a moment of silence, Schuldig prodded, "Sooo…what about Ken?"
Ken frowned. He’d hoped the German would drop that topic.
"Nah, I’m nosy," Schuldig informed him. "So, spill, Kenken. What are your plans for the future?"
Ken sighed. "Don’t really have any," he admitted quietly, wondering why the hell he was saying this to Schuldig, of all people. Probably because he’s here, and he asked, Ken thought to himself a little bitterly. Nobody else has.
"Huh. I figured you’d have big plans to go coach kids’ soccer professionally or something," Schuldig remarked thoughtfully.
Ken snorted. "Yeah, right. I can never do any formal coaching. Who’s gonna hire the guy who got kicked out of J-League for throwing games on purpose?"
"Omi could make you a new identity in about two days," Schuldig pointed out. "I know, Nagi’s done it for us often enough."
"I’ve lived inside a lie for long enough," Ken said unhappily. "I don’t want to spend the rest of my life pretending to be someone I’m not."
Schuldig chuckled softly at this statement. "Oh, Hidaka," he sighed, "didn’t you know everyone pretends to be someone they’re not? Civilization as we know it couldn’t exist if we didn’t. Don’t believe what they say about humans being social animals. Most of the ones I’ve met were borderline sociopaths once I got past the surface personas, and I’ve met a lot of people."
Ken frowned. "That can’t be right," he protested. "Maybe it’s just the kind of people you meet. I think most people are happy to live quiet, normal lives with their families and friends."
Schuldig sighed. "Yeah, that’s what you should think. I envy you that, you know."
"I don’t think you really believe people are all so bad," Ken denied thoughtfully. "If you did, why would you have helped Yohji when he was stuck in your head? If he was really so terrible, why wouldn’t you have just killed him then? And why help me today?" Ken pressed on, ignoring Schuldig’s familiar protests about not knowing what killing Yohji while he was stuck in Schuldig’s head would have done to him.
Schuldig rolled his eyes. "I told you, I didn’t have anything better to do," he muttered irritably.
"Oh, right," Ken agreed placidly. "Yeah, usually we have three or four telepathic assassins hanging around the place, bored out of their minds and willing to perform manual labor, but you’re the only one who showed up today for some reason."
"Oh, just shut up," Schuldig demanded.
Ken grinned at the scowling German. "If you’re still campaigning for the Ken Hidaka Seal of Approval, you’ve more than earned it," he assured the older man sincerely.
Schuldig gave an involuntary snort of amusement at this statement, but his lips curved in a genuine smile.
Ken’s grin widened at the sight, and at having startled such a reaction out of the older man. "I think I’m starting to see it," he observed.
Schuldig gave him a curious glance, the smile dimming a bit, but still present.
"What Yohji sees in you," Ken elaborated. "At first, I couldn’t quite figure it out, I thought it was just some weird residual thing from the funky mind-meld experience, but now… I don’t know, I guess I’m starting to see whatever it is he saw from inside you. Only I’m outside, so maybe it’s harder to see or something," Ken rambled.
Schuldig watched him, the green eyes amused. "That made absolutely no sense, Hidaka," he observed wryly.
"Yeah, yeah, I know, stupid Kenken can’t even talk straight," Ken muttered, in good-natured self-mockery.
Schuldig frowned slightly at him. "You’re definitely not stupid, Kenken," he stated firmly. "Yohji’s right, you know, Fujimiya was a real idiot to walk out on you."
Ken flushed slightly and turned his head away from the suddenly too intense eye contact. He had no better idea how to respond to such a sentiment from Schuldig than he did when it came from Yohji.
"If you asked Yohji, he’d take you along when he goes," Schuldig pointed out quietly. "He’s soft on you like that."
"I know," Ken replied, just as quietly. "That’s why I won’t ask him."
Schuldig was silent for a moment, then murmured, "Definitely not stupid." He sighed, then added, more loudly, "If it’s any consolation, he has no plans to go anywhere for a while."
"It is, a little," Ken admitted, turning back to smile at the older man. "Thanks."
Schuldig shrugged again, which still looked weird against the table. "Buy me lunch," he ordered suddenly.
Ken blinked at him in surprise. "Hey, we can’t leave the shop, you know. This has been a nice break, but we’ve got to open up for the afternoon. We could order in…"
"What’s this ‘we’ crap?" Schuldig asked pointedly. "I’ve done my good deed for the year, Hidaka, you’re on your own until the kid gets home from school."
Ken sighed, but smiled in acceptance. "Okay, that’s fine. You’ve already been a really big help, I don’t know how I would have made it through the morning without you."
"Which is why you’re buying me lunch," Schuldig repeated, pushing himself up from the table and stretching his arms over his head.
Ken frowned up at him. "Can’t leave the shop," he repeated. "Take out?"
"Take out, my ass," Schuldig snapped. "You’re closed, Hidaka. And I hate to be the one to point this out to you, but you’re probably going to stay that way. This place is a mess, it’ll take the whole afternoon to get it cleaned up. And I’m not staying for the next shift."
Ken lifted his head and stared around the shop in growing dismay. It was a complete disaster area. Bent and broken flowers were everywhere, there was a huge puddle on the floor where a bucket had been tipped over, and the rest of the floor was liberally strewn with leaves, petals and dirt…
"Oh, man…" he murmured miserably.
"Precisely," Schuldig agreed, pulling Yohji’s apron off as he walked toward the line of pegs to retrieve his coat. "Which is why you need to buy me lunch. You need to take a break before you get started on this."
Ken scowled at the German’s back. "You just want a free meal," he accused.
"Damn straight," Schuldig agreed, turning to grin at Ken as he pulled on his coat. "And I think I earned it."
The grin was infectious, as Yohji’s sometimes was when he was trying to con Ken into doing something he knew they shouldn’t. He always ended up doing whatever it was, too. He doubted he’d have any better luck resisting Schuldig than he ever did Yohji.
"You wouldn’t, even though I’m being nice," Schuldig agreed smugly. "I could make you want to take me to lunch, you know," he pointed out with a smirk.
Ken shook his finger sternly at the German. "Remarks like that will not get you the Ken Hidaka Seal of Approval," he warned solemnly, struggling not to grin at Schuldig’s exasperated sigh. "All right, all right," he muttered, surrendering to the inevitable and standing up to pull off his own apron.
Schuldig grinned happily in triumph as Ken walked over to the register and opened the drawer, pulling out a wad of cash and making a careful note in the notebook under the counter. "Lunch," he announced, "is coming out of Yohji’s salary. He owes us both for this morning."
Schuldig laughed aloud at this statement, and Ken ginned to himself as he stuffed the money into his pocket and headed for the door. "Where do you want to go?" he asked as they stepped out into the street, turning to lock the door behind them.
"Somewhere expensive," Schuldig decided firmly.
Ken chuckled. "You read my mind," he declared brightly.
Schuldig rolled his eyes. "Don’t make me hurt you, Kenken," he warned.
Ken just laughed at his sour expression as they strolled down the street. All in all, he thought, the morning’s activities didn’t seem nearly as weird as they probably should have.