Hello, kiddies. Here is a sort of sequel to 'Touch', as per request of a
reviewer.
Pairing: Brad/Schu
Rating: R for language—I've got a potty mouth!
Summary: Brad and Schu have a mission, killing, sex, and making fun Nagi ensues.
Disclaimer: I don't own Weiss Kruez, and I don't own Bright Eyes. If only...Song is 'On My Way to Work.'
~With You~
Schuldig flitted the tips of his fingers across the dashboard. Sharp azure eyes inspected the tips of milk white fingers. As always, they came back spotless. His orange hair shook around his head as he gave a short nod of approval, before he reached out to adjust the volume on the radio. Today they were listening to American CDs, provided by his American companion.
Speaking of which, he glanced over at Brad. His black hair was ruffled as the wind ran its fingers through it. Schuldig was glad they had taken the top down; it was hot as hell outside. A small smile found its place on his lips as Brad lifted one hand from the steering wheel and placed it in Schuldig's lap. Schuldig didn't mind finishing the task—he entwined his fingers with Brad's.
A twitch of Brad's hand was the signal he always gave. They were almost there. Schuldig sighed. It was just a quick assassination, he assured himself. He just wanted to get back to the apartment and spend some quality time with Bradley. Maybe watch some of that foreign porn he kept in the living room.
He smirked at Brad as they pulled up to the church. "Farf should have done this job."
Bradley smirked back, and squeezed Schuldig's hand.
::There is a car parked where the block begins And there are people singing praises Say it's all because of him And there is a bird perched on a frayed wet wire And his voice sings out for a lover::
The service is almost over, they can tell by the sounds of pipe organs wafting through the open windows. Schuldig laughs quietly at that; not even God could quell the heat. Birds perched along the roof of the towering church, their shrill songs clashing with the choir music. Some job just weren't worth it.
Brad peered over at the redhead, who stood with his back to him. "He'll be out soon. Once he's dead, we'll go home. Maybe watch some foreign porn."
Schuldig turned around, laughter in his eyes, before crossing the short distance and burying his nose in Crawford's neck. It was odd, their pre- murder snuggle. It didn't matter that they would take a life soon, destroy a family, and destroy a business it took a corrupt man a lifetime to build. Nothing matter but the two of them standing there, together, listening to insignificant people praying to a deity that might not exist.
Schuldig worshipped Brad. And Brad sure as hell existed.
::But it's covered by the choir of voices Reaching way beyond the rafters With devotion they perform these sacred tasks They cross themselves and offer up their checkbooks Slight suffering is not too much to ask.::
It was over quick. Schuldig told the man to come around back, Crawford told him to watch out for the bodyguard. It was absurd on so many levels. For one thing, bringing a bodyguard to church just didn't seem right. But then, Schuldig would have initiated sex halfway through the service, so he wasn't one to judge. As Crawford shot the man, he smiled at the thought of sex in a church. While the preacher taught his lesson on sin, Schuldig would get down on his knees and fucking pray. He would make sure Bradley would be the one screaming for God, though.
He licked his lips, wondering when killing became so casual. When he could think about Brad while he was offing some man. Regardless of his thoughts, neither of them ever let their relationship get in the way of their jobs. Sometimes, when Takatori brought the golf club down on his face, he wished it would. Wished Brad would catch the club mid-swing, give Takatori his look, his most intimidating look, and pull Schuldig out of the office by his hand.
The man was almost dead, which amazed Schuldig. Six shots to the stomach, and the bastard had better die soon. Into the portly, wheezing mans mind he purred to just give up, to let go, embrace death. In his own mind, he was laughing. Bradley was smiling at him.
Crawford made a quick phone call, and after he slid the compact cell phone into his pocket, he and Schuldig made their way back to the car.
::Besides we all are making money And we are all fucking alone And we don't know what we are doing Maybe just buying us some hope Because we know that we are lonely::
It was rushed when they got in the car. A loving kiss, followed immediately by a quick fuck in the front seat. Schuldig loved climbing on top. It was best when his back hit the steering wheel, causing the horn to blare, and people peered into the car, regardless of the tinted windows they had raised. Bradley had insisted they leave the top down, just in cause a plane flew by, and people happened to look down on them.
"People wonder what's so great about Japan." He murmured into his lover's ear, giving it a quick lick.
"And what is so great about Japan?" Schuldig managed to moan, as he slammed down on Brad's lap.
"You and me." And then it went a little slower, and the kisses had no less feeling than before, but Schuldig could tell how much Brad loved him when he swept his tongue into his mouth with that quiet moaning noise he made sometimes. It was the sound he made the first time they had kissed, the sound he made after the first time he said 'I love you.'
Afterwards, Schuldig took off his green blazer and wiped the sweat off of their faces, smiling when Brad shot him a disapproving frown. "What," he teased, "thought you didn't like this blazer."
Brad laughed then, a nice sound. Sometimes, late at night, when they had had a few drinks, and had a few orgasms, they would lie in a mound of pillows and sheets, joking around and talking about inane things. Sometimes, at the plea of Schuldig, Brad would humor him with an evil laugh, like the ones in movies. Those were Schuldig's favorite moments, besides making love.
::Yeah, lonely that's for sure And the older ones are coughing And the older ones are dying Maybe we are all dying I pass a graveyard on my way to work.::
Bradley had rolled down the windows once again, which the German promptly took advantage of. He hung his head out the window, moaning as the wind practically slapped his face. It was getting colder, and clouds were covering the sun. It would probably rain. He pulled his head in, with a grin on his face. His hair felt all out of sorts, wild-like.
"It's going to rain," Brad said shortly.
Schuldig laughed. "Is that the clairvoyance speaking, or did the big dark clouds tip you off?"
"Just had a vision of us fucking, and I could hear rain outside." His white teeth were visible as he smirked over at the telepath.
Schuldig laughed again. After a few seconds of confusion, he found the button that worked the top of the convertible, which he pressed. It made a smooth purring noise as it covered the car, and he quickly switched on the air conditioning, to maximum cold level. Outside the tinted windows, Schuldig watched a line of black suits dragging around a coffin. White roses littered the area. He smiled.
"Did we do that?" He asked his lover.
::Today I saw two dozen white roses On a fresh new mound of dirt And I wondered about the occupant When the darkness finally swallowed him was he calm and content Or was he sweating in a struggle to keep breathing,::
Brad looked over at him, his black hair falling over his forehead. "Sometimes I wonder how many of those people I put there, until I realize I don't really care."
Schuldig nodded, his eyes fixed on the image in the rear-view mirror. "Wonder if they'll have a nice procession for tubby back there."
Brad snorted. "Doubtless. Thousand dollars says it will be a diamond studded coffin."
The redhead ran his fingers down the length of his lovers arm, stopping at the hand. He pulled it off of the wheel, with no resistance. He squeezed it gently, before pressing his lips to the flawless skin. "You're on," he purred.
He settled back in the leather seat, thinking. They made worthless bets all of the time. A thousand dollars on menial things, several hundred on who would win what awards on TV. They always shared the money anyways. He wished they could get married. Sure, they had the matching Silver rings Brad had gotten them for their anniversary, but he still wished they were legally together.
He snorted. Married? Where the hell had that come from? As if. Their very existence was illegal; their love was perfect in every way. They didn't need a preacher to tell them they belonged to each other. They could say it themselves.
Spotting a girl walking down the street, her hand in that of a young man. He could hear her thoughts clearly, her worthless wishes that he would propose to her. Why couldn't he have his own goddamned thoughts?
Beside him, Crawford drove on, oblivious. Brad's thoughts were still on the graveyard.
::Ripping apart the sheets that dressed his bed Crying out loud for someone to help him And collapsing on his back all pale and dead Maybe it's me who's this unstable Always obsessed about the end.::
They made out in the elevator like teenagers. Groping, like they were about to lose their virginity, grabbing like this was the last time things would be so innocent. They lived thirty floors up, and the elevator dinged annoyingly once they were there. Outside, thunder rumbled.
Brad pushed his glasses up his nose, sending a quick look at Schuldig, who read his thoughts and grinning. His hand shot out, pressing the stop button on the elevator. He hoped no one needed to use it. He couldn't see anyone needed it in the next hour, so he shrugged, before pulling Schuldig back to his body.
For and hour they stayed there, mainly sharing slow, practiced kisses.
"Love you," Schuldig whispered, staring at their reflection in the body- length mirror. They looked so goddamned good together.
"Love you too," Crawford replied. "Now let's get the hell out of this deathtrap and into our bed.
As always, Schuldig smiled at the word 'our.'
::Why can't I let what happens happen? And just enjoy the time I spend? Oh how I wish it was so easy But when there is no point to anything it can get a bit confusing Why is that I keep going?::
They sauntered down the hall together, hand in hand. Outside, thunder rumbled and rain poured onto the building. Brad glanced over, his face crumbling into confusion as the telepath smirked. "Oh, juicy, juicy." He purred. Cobalt eyes turned to meet amber. "Does my lovely want to know a juicy secret?"
Brad, despite his disapproving frown, nodded his head. He wagered that it was a rhetorical question, but he had to answer. Schuldig leaned in closer, and whispered silkily, "Naggles just got his first kiss."
Golden eyes widened in shock. "By whom, may I ask?"
Schuldig chuckled. "Does the term 'kiss me, I'm Irish' mean anything to you?"
Brads laugh echoed in the hallway. He pulled a key out of his pocket, and they entered the apartment together. The room was dim, save for the blue light flickering across the ghostly skin of Nagi. He sat there, in front of the couch, fingers pressed to his lips. Neither man had ever seen him smile. Both men began to laugh out loud.
The Japanese teen looked up, his cerulean eyes wide. Understanding dawned in his eyes, and he slammed the front door, causing it to hit Schuldig in the ass. It only made Schuldig and Brad laugh harder.
"Oh, shut up." Nagi muttered, before walking down the hallway to Farfarello's room.
Schuldig continued to laugh, until he saw his movie rack. "Shit," he cried, "Clever little Naggles moved my porn!"
::why is that we keep going?::
~Fin~
Questions? Comments? Flames?
Please, be orderly. Leave your screen name, and a short message. Just in case, so that I may flame back.
And seriously, do NOT leave me a review saying Brad is OOC. If you do, I will flame your ass so bad you won't be able to sit for a week. Give me proof of Brad being a bastard, and Schu being anything but a lighthearted smartass. And yes, I know Brad slapped Nagi. But, hey, that's what Nagi gets for being in love with Tot. Hope you enjoyed, bye!
I spy, with my little eye, a review button! Click, click.
Pairing: Brad/Schu
Rating: R for language—I've got a potty mouth!
Summary: Brad and Schu have a mission, killing, sex, and making fun Nagi ensues.
Disclaimer: I don't own Weiss Kruez, and I don't own Bright Eyes. If only...Song is 'On My Way to Work.'
~With You~
Schuldig flitted the tips of his fingers across the dashboard. Sharp azure eyes inspected the tips of milk white fingers. As always, they came back spotless. His orange hair shook around his head as he gave a short nod of approval, before he reached out to adjust the volume on the radio. Today they were listening to American CDs, provided by his American companion.
Speaking of which, he glanced over at Brad. His black hair was ruffled as the wind ran its fingers through it. Schuldig was glad they had taken the top down; it was hot as hell outside. A small smile found its place on his lips as Brad lifted one hand from the steering wheel and placed it in Schuldig's lap. Schuldig didn't mind finishing the task—he entwined his fingers with Brad's.
A twitch of Brad's hand was the signal he always gave. They were almost there. Schuldig sighed. It was just a quick assassination, he assured himself. He just wanted to get back to the apartment and spend some quality time with Bradley. Maybe watch some of that foreign porn he kept in the living room.
He smirked at Brad as they pulled up to the church. "Farf should have done this job."
Bradley smirked back, and squeezed Schuldig's hand.
::There is a car parked where the block begins And there are people singing praises Say it's all because of him And there is a bird perched on a frayed wet wire And his voice sings out for a lover::
The service is almost over, they can tell by the sounds of pipe organs wafting through the open windows. Schuldig laughs quietly at that; not even God could quell the heat. Birds perched along the roof of the towering church, their shrill songs clashing with the choir music. Some job just weren't worth it.
Brad peered over at the redhead, who stood with his back to him. "He'll be out soon. Once he's dead, we'll go home. Maybe watch some foreign porn."
Schuldig turned around, laughter in his eyes, before crossing the short distance and burying his nose in Crawford's neck. It was odd, their pre- murder snuggle. It didn't matter that they would take a life soon, destroy a family, and destroy a business it took a corrupt man a lifetime to build. Nothing matter but the two of them standing there, together, listening to insignificant people praying to a deity that might not exist.
Schuldig worshipped Brad. And Brad sure as hell existed.
::But it's covered by the choir of voices Reaching way beyond the rafters With devotion they perform these sacred tasks They cross themselves and offer up their checkbooks Slight suffering is not too much to ask.::
It was over quick. Schuldig told the man to come around back, Crawford told him to watch out for the bodyguard. It was absurd on so many levels. For one thing, bringing a bodyguard to church just didn't seem right. But then, Schuldig would have initiated sex halfway through the service, so he wasn't one to judge. As Crawford shot the man, he smiled at the thought of sex in a church. While the preacher taught his lesson on sin, Schuldig would get down on his knees and fucking pray. He would make sure Bradley would be the one screaming for God, though.
He licked his lips, wondering when killing became so casual. When he could think about Brad while he was offing some man. Regardless of his thoughts, neither of them ever let their relationship get in the way of their jobs. Sometimes, when Takatori brought the golf club down on his face, he wished it would. Wished Brad would catch the club mid-swing, give Takatori his look, his most intimidating look, and pull Schuldig out of the office by his hand.
The man was almost dead, which amazed Schuldig. Six shots to the stomach, and the bastard had better die soon. Into the portly, wheezing mans mind he purred to just give up, to let go, embrace death. In his own mind, he was laughing. Bradley was smiling at him.
Crawford made a quick phone call, and after he slid the compact cell phone into his pocket, he and Schuldig made their way back to the car.
::Besides we all are making money And we are all fucking alone And we don't know what we are doing Maybe just buying us some hope Because we know that we are lonely::
It was rushed when they got in the car. A loving kiss, followed immediately by a quick fuck in the front seat. Schuldig loved climbing on top. It was best when his back hit the steering wheel, causing the horn to blare, and people peered into the car, regardless of the tinted windows they had raised. Bradley had insisted they leave the top down, just in cause a plane flew by, and people happened to look down on them.
"People wonder what's so great about Japan." He murmured into his lover's ear, giving it a quick lick.
"And what is so great about Japan?" Schuldig managed to moan, as he slammed down on Brad's lap.
"You and me." And then it went a little slower, and the kisses had no less feeling than before, but Schuldig could tell how much Brad loved him when he swept his tongue into his mouth with that quiet moaning noise he made sometimes. It was the sound he made the first time they had kissed, the sound he made after the first time he said 'I love you.'
Afterwards, Schuldig took off his green blazer and wiped the sweat off of their faces, smiling when Brad shot him a disapproving frown. "What," he teased, "thought you didn't like this blazer."
Brad laughed then, a nice sound. Sometimes, late at night, when they had had a few drinks, and had a few orgasms, they would lie in a mound of pillows and sheets, joking around and talking about inane things. Sometimes, at the plea of Schuldig, Brad would humor him with an evil laugh, like the ones in movies. Those were Schuldig's favorite moments, besides making love.
::Yeah, lonely that's for sure And the older ones are coughing And the older ones are dying Maybe we are all dying I pass a graveyard on my way to work.::
Bradley had rolled down the windows once again, which the German promptly took advantage of. He hung his head out the window, moaning as the wind practically slapped his face. It was getting colder, and clouds were covering the sun. It would probably rain. He pulled his head in, with a grin on his face. His hair felt all out of sorts, wild-like.
"It's going to rain," Brad said shortly.
Schuldig laughed. "Is that the clairvoyance speaking, or did the big dark clouds tip you off?"
"Just had a vision of us fucking, and I could hear rain outside." His white teeth were visible as he smirked over at the telepath.
Schuldig laughed again. After a few seconds of confusion, he found the button that worked the top of the convertible, which he pressed. It made a smooth purring noise as it covered the car, and he quickly switched on the air conditioning, to maximum cold level. Outside the tinted windows, Schuldig watched a line of black suits dragging around a coffin. White roses littered the area. He smiled.
"Did we do that?" He asked his lover.
::Today I saw two dozen white roses On a fresh new mound of dirt And I wondered about the occupant When the darkness finally swallowed him was he calm and content Or was he sweating in a struggle to keep breathing,::
Brad looked over at him, his black hair falling over his forehead. "Sometimes I wonder how many of those people I put there, until I realize I don't really care."
Schuldig nodded, his eyes fixed on the image in the rear-view mirror. "Wonder if they'll have a nice procession for tubby back there."
Brad snorted. "Doubtless. Thousand dollars says it will be a diamond studded coffin."
The redhead ran his fingers down the length of his lovers arm, stopping at the hand. He pulled it off of the wheel, with no resistance. He squeezed it gently, before pressing his lips to the flawless skin. "You're on," he purred.
He settled back in the leather seat, thinking. They made worthless bets all of the time. A thousand dollars on menial things, several hundred on who would win what awards on TV. They always shared the money anyways. He wished they could get married. Sure, they had the matching Silver rings Brad had gotten them for their anniversary, but he still wished they were legally together.
He snorted. Married? Where the hell had that come from? As if. Their very existence was illegal; their love was perfect in every way. They didn't need a preacher to tell them they belonged to each other. They could say it themselves.
Spotting a girl walking down the street, her hand in that of a young man. He could hear her thoughts clearly, her worthless wishes that he would propose to her. Why couldn't he have his own goddamned thoughts?
Beside him, Crawford drove on, oblivious. Brad's thoughts were still on the graveyard.
::Ripping apart the sheets that dressed his bed Crying out loud for someone to help him And collapsing on his back all pale and dead Maybe it's me who's this unstable Always obsessed about the end.::
They made out in the elevator like teenagers. Groping, like they were about to lose their virginity, grabbing like this was the last time things would be so innocent. They lived thirty floors up, and the elevator dinged annoyingly once they were there. Outside, thunder rumbled.
Brad pushed his glasses up his nose, sending a quick look at Schuldig, who read his thoughts and grinning. His hand shot out, pressing the stop button on the elevator. He hoped no one needed to use it. He couldn't see anyone needed it in the next hour, so he shrugged, before pulling Schuldig back to his body.
For and hour they stayed there, mainly sharing slow, practiced kisses.
"Love you," Schuldig whispered, staring at their reflection in the body- length mirror. They looked so goddamned good together.
"Love you too," Crawford replied. "Now let's get the hell out of this deathtrap and into our bed.
As always, Schuldig smiled at the word 'our.'
::Why can't I let what happens happen? And just enjoy the time I spend? Oh how I wish it was so easy But when there is no point to anything it can get a bit confusing Why is that I keep going?::
They sauntered down the hall together, hand in hand. Outside, thunder rumbled and rain poured onto the building. Brad glanced over, his face crumbling into confusion as the telepath smirked. "Oh, juicy, juicy." He purred. Cobalt eyes turned to meet amber. "Does my lovely want to know a juicy secret?"
Brad, despite his disapproving frown, nodded his head. He wagered that it was a rhetorical question, but he had to answer. Schuldig leaned in closer, and whispered silkily, "Naggles just got his first kiss."
Golden eyes widened in shock. "By whom, may I ask?"
Schuldig chuckled. "Does the term 'kiss me, I'm Irish' mean anything to you?"
Brads laugh echoed in the hallway. He pulled a key out of his pocket, and they entered the apartment together. The room was dim, save for the blue light flickering across the ghostly skin of Nagi. He sat there, in front of the couch, fingers pressed to his lips. Neither man had ever seen him smile. Both men began to laugh out loud.
The Japanese teen looked up, his cerulean eyes wide. Understanding dawned in his eyes, and he slammed the front door, causing it to hit Schuldig in the ass. It only made Schuldig and Brad laugh harder.
"Oh, shut up." Nagi muttered, before walking down the hallway to Farfarello's room.
Schuldig continued to laugh, until he saw his movie rack. "Shit," he cried, "Clever little Naggles moved my porn!"
::why is that we keep going?::
~Fin~
Questions? Comments? Flames?
Please, be orderly. Leave your screen name, and a short message. Just in case, so that I may flame back.
And seriously, do NOT leave me a review saying Brad is OOC. If you do, I will flame your ass so bad you won't be able to sit for a week. Give me proof of Brad being a bastard, and Schu being anything but a lighthearted smartass. And yes, I know Brad slapped Nagi. But, hey, that's what Nagi gets for being in love with Tot. Hope you enjoyed, bye!
I spy, with my little eye, a review button! Click, click.