[ I've been walking erect since the moment we met ]

[so_very_guilty]

Day: 3
Characters: Lelouch oops_siblicide & Schuldig so_very_guilty
Summary: Schu made his waifu mad. Time to see how many rusty butter knifes it takes. D:
DAY/NIGHT & Time: Day & Morning. First Rec. SOMETIME.
Status: Closed / Incomplete

Comments

[oops_siblicide]

Lelouch pointedly avoided looking at Schuldig, having mostly finished profiling the other by now. Schuldig was the sort who thrived on attention, like a child seeking acknowledgment. Who lived off of and relied on his charms to their fullest extent, which was formidable. Right now, Lelouch refused to be swayed by that magic smile, by those clear blue eyes and body language of someone who believed himself to own the world-- It occurred to Lelouch that he found Schuldig at least a little bit infuriating in his good looks and ruthlessness in utilizing them.

"Sit. We're going to have a chat," he ordered more than invited, standing from where he was seated on the bed before gesturing for Schuldig to seat himself.

[so_very_guilty]

If that didn’t sound like fucking Brad Crawford. Had he not been prepared for that, he would have sulked and downright pouted at Lelouch for both inappropriate use of the word ‘chat’ and paying him so little attention. These sorts always had to ruin the word chat, using it to describe things far less desirable than a chat. As it was, he did sulk his way over to the bed, keeping his grin to the best of his abilities and flopping in a mess of pretty languid limbs on their bed and stretching out.

“So what sort of chat are we having now?” Schuldig asked, trying his best to avoid the dread at actually knowing the answer. He had the general idea it wasn’t going to be anything nice. "No rusty butter knives, right?"

[oops_siblicide]

"You will sit up when we are having chats about serious matters," Lelouch instructed sternly, doing his positively best impression of Instructor Villetta as he crossed his arms over his chest and still refused to meet Schuldig's gaze, watching him only out of the corner of his eye.

"There are no rusty butter knives for the time being, but, honestly, Schuldig, I am at a complete loss for what to do with you," Lelouch muttered, pacing a little as he tried to think of how to get himself out of this particular stalemate. Sighing heavily, he finally spared Schuldig a glance before looking away again, lips drawn into a thin, serious line. "I do like you as a person, once all your grievously gaping character flaws are overlooked, and I appreciate everything you've done for me. However, having to defend you from lynch mobs is not my idea of a good morning."

[so_very_guilty]

Okay, a bit worse than Crawford. The pout was slowly starting to settle on his lips while he obeyed the instruction, gathering up his languid sprawl in favor of sitting neatly at the edge of the bed. Sir, yes, sir. He kept any internal eye rolling to himself, well aware if Lelouch wasn’t putting up with slouching, that would hardly be tolerated.

Honestly, it was all somewhat endearing in a strange, strange way. Lelouch was pacing around bitching and commanding - well, the commanding was hot. Regardless, the kid cared that he was in somewhat dangerous predicament, cared whether or not he fucked the entire institute. Yeah, there was definitely a certain charm to Lelouch’s worrying and Schuldig was managing a grin again. “Calm down, babe. It was one mistake, okay? It won’t happen again.” The only half hearted promise trailed off, and Schuldig lowered his voice, a bit awkwardly, adding, “But... thanks. For defending me, I mean.”