Dragon Cycle

Dragon Cycle – Pt 17 – The Calm


Disclaimer: Since I’ve done no deals with the current owners of Weiss Kreuz or its characters, neither the Weiß nor the Schwarz boys belong to me, but we do have fun together. I still write this stuff for pleasure not profit.

Author's Notes: My humble thanks go to Iron Dog, for betaing this for me and making it sparkle.

Since I don’t get heaps of reviews (not that I’m complaining – I love the reviews I get!), I thought it wouldn’t hurt too much to respond here, starting with the last couple.

annime:I’m glad you’re enjoying the dynamics of the Crawford/Schuldig relationship. It’s rather fun to write, too!

Sheeris Jemima: Thanks for de-lurking long enough to leave a review ^_^
It’s very pleasing to know that others enjoy what I write and are intrigued by it.

• • • • • • • • • • • • •

The tread of the footsteps on the balcony’s wooden floorboards told him who was approaching but he didn’t turn around. There was no need. The person coming was one of the few people he trusted. He kept his gaze on the forest scenery spread out as far as he could see. His lips quirked in a half-smile as the scent of an expensive, familiar cologne wafted over him seconds before hands slid onto his hips and a body pressed up against his back.

“I wouldn’t have picked you as a nature lover,” purred a low voice close by his ear.

“If it wasn’t for trees, we’d all be dead,” he answered as he relaxed back against the man behind him.

“Is that right?”

He shrugged then made a small sound of approval as teeth nipped at his ear. His gaze still on the close growing trees, he asked, “Do you suppose there’s animals in the woods?”

“Fancy a bit of hunting?”

“It would help pass some time,” he answered.

“Hmm,” Schuldig mused and moved away to lean against one of the porch posts. Farfarello watched him as he put his hands in his pockets and let his gaze roam over the same scenery the Irishman had been surveying until moments ago. That blue gaze soon came to rest on him. Schuldig gave a half smile.

“All the same, I doubt our fearless leader would approve of you stalking around in the woods, even if you could convince him it was just animals you were hunting.”

Farfarello slowly closed the distance between them until they were standing side-by-side again. After a moment he turned his head to look at the German and asked, “Why are we here, Schu?” This question had been bothering him ever since he’d learned they were coming on this trip.

The German snorted. “Apart from guarding Takatori’s fat ass while he fucks his latest lady love, and standing around looking suitably protective at a party, I’m not sure. I can’t get into Crawford’s head to find out and he’s not saying a damn thing. There’d better be other work for us to do or I’ll just have to find something to occupy myself. I don’t think Crawford would approve. Kinda makes me want to do it anyway.”

Farfarello silently agreed fervently if the German’s idea of finding something to do involved a bed and their naked bodies. “Nothing else was mentioned when we had our meet and greet with Takatori half an hour ago.”

“That’s because we were there to meet the lovely – and very ambitious – Miss Yamamoto,” Schuldig pointed out. He smirked at his companion. “She approves of us, by the way,” he advised. “Well, almost. She likes me because I’m sex-on-legs. She likes Nagi; thinks he’s extremely cute. Crawford gets her approval because he’s one of the old man’s underlings, and a very attractive one. But you,” the German sighed dramatically, “she thinks you’re creepy.”

Farfarello’s golden gaze was deadly serious. “Do you think I’m creepy?” he asked. The answer to that question was surprisingly important to the Irishman.

Schuldig gave a short laugh and ghosted his hand over Farfarello’s groin. “I think that answer’s obvious.”

Farfarello moved his head closer, so his lips were almost brushing the German’s. “Then what the fuck do I care what anyone else thinks?” he asked in a low voice before kissing the German in earnest.

Schuldig returned the kiss with less enthusiasm than Farfarello wanted and the Irishman sighed internally. If he’d thought there was a chance of getting Schuldig into a bed right now, he would have persisted with the kiss and added in some of the caresses and intimate stroking Schuldig seemed to like from their last encounter. Farfarello was willing to do whatever he needed to encourage the German’s capitulation. After working so closely with him, Farfarello knew how to read Schuldig, and what he sensed was that the telepath wasn’t going to allow anything more intimate than a shared kiss. He suspected he knew the reason behind the telepath’s decided lack of interest in a late morning fuck. Crawford had been particularly possessive of late. That was starting to piss Farfarello off. Crawford didn’t own Schuldig. They didn’t have an exclusive relationship.

When Schuldig ended the kiss, Farfarello rumbled his disappointment deep in his throat. He could persist, trying to arouse the telepath, but he knew that such unwanted attention would more likely fire up Schuldig’s temper than his libido. While he had the feeling that angry sex with the telepath would stir all kinds of pleasure in him, Farfarello, oddly enough didn’t feel like a violent encounter at that moment. He drew back and contented himself with just being close to the other man.

After a short silence, he turned his head. “You want to take a look around?”

Schuldig hesitated a moment or two then shrugged. “Yeah, why not?”

Returning inside, they headed to the ground floor and outside. Takatori’s guesthouse was, in fact, an old converted farmhouse consisting of a sprawling main house, where Takatori and Miss Yamamoto were staying, and a couple of outbuildings, which currently housed the two parties of bodyguards. Covered walkways connected all the buildings and formed the border of a formal garden.

“It’s nice, here,” Farfarello approved as they stepped out into the late morning sunshine. “Quiet. Restful,” he added with a nod.

“You stick with quiet and restful, I’ll go with boring,” Schuldig said.

“You could take a lesson from nature,” Farfarello advised as he set off away from the walkways and gardens.

“You’re just one big tree-hugging, fish kissing nature lover today, aren’t you,” Schuldig jibed as he kept pace.

“You need to learn to bend, Schuldig,” the Irishman replied unfazed.

Schuldig snorted disparagingly. “You think I didn’t learn that lesson at Rosenhölle?”

“I said bend, not bend over,” Farfarello corrected with a small smile.

Schuldig sputtered out a laugh. “Sometimes it’s hard to tell the difference,” he replied when he recovered. “Sometimes,” he added, “there is no difference.”

Farfarello just smiled a little more to himself and kept silent as he began to follow a narrow pathway amongst the tall trees and heavy undergrowth. He hadn’t lied when he’d said this was a nice place. Truth was, in the right mood, he rather liked quiet and peaceful places. He found nothing at all wrong with a bit of calm and relaxation. He was sure some peace and quiet would be good for them all after the week they’d just had. It would certainly be good for Schuldig to be away from the city. The telepath needed time to recover fully and he could best do that away from the hurly-burly of city life.

Two weeks of peace and quiet, however, was a different thing altogether. He could take it in small doses but eventually the need to cause some mayhem rose in him. If they didn’t get some real work to do while they were here, Crawford better have packed some seriously heavy duty drugs. Given Schuldig’s problems with peace and quiet, Farfarello thought he might have to share those drugs. Farfarello’s reverie was interrupted when he heard Schuldig call his name. He looked around, unable to see the German.

“Where are you?” he called.

“Over here.”

Farfarello moved between trees, heading in the direction of Schuldig’s voice, and soon found him standing beside a hot spring. Schuldig looked across at him, grinning sardonically.

“Looks like just the thing after a long drive,” he said, nodding at the water.

After taking in the artfully placed rocks, the stone lanterns, and the pitched and beamed roof that covered a quarter of the spring, Farfarello went to the German. He slipped one arm across Schuldig’s chest and the other around his waist, angling it downwards to grip his hip.

“It looks very relaxing,” he agreed, as he held the telepath still and rubbed the beginnings of his erection suggestively against the German.

Schuldig made a low, appreciative sound, but even as Farfarello was letting his imagination run wild and his hands wander over Schuldig’s belly and groin, the German’s smile faded and he gave a disappointed grunt.

“Too bad,” he said, almost to himself. He turned his head towards Farfarello and shrugged. “Looks like today, we lose. Takatori and Miss Yamamoto are already in the changing room.” He shuddered and pulled out of the Irishman’s grasp, turning away from the spring. “Let’s go.”

Despite his regret at losing a chance at the hot spring, Farfarello turned and followed Schuldig back to the pathway, comforting himself with the thought the spring would still be there tomorrow. He had no desire to be around Takatori any more than he had to be; he especially didn’t want to be around him when the old bastard was sharing a spring with his girlfriend. His guess was that Schuldig had even less desire to hang around for that exact same reason. If just the idea of seeing the old goat humping away was bad enough, Farfarello couldn’t imagine how disgusting it would be to share the experience like Schuldig would be able to considering the shape his mental shields were in.

They followed the pathway for another five minutes or so before Schuldig declared that he hated nature and he was going back to the house. Farfarello went with him, happy to be anywhere Schuldig was because maybe – just maybe – it would get them into the same bed at the same time. Watching the lithe form of the German ahead of him as they backtracked to the house, Farfarello knew that if he didn’t get to fuck Schuldig soon, he was going to reach his limit of frustration and do something someone was going to regret.

Returning via a different route so they didn’t have to go near the hot spring, they came out of the woods at the side of the house where they were staying. Spying a wooden bench under the shelter of a large tree, they sat down together.

“I’m going to go mad here,” Schuldig sighed as he stretched one arm along the back of the bench, and rested the other on its iron rest.

Farfarello said nothing. There was nothing to say. He didn’t want to look at the German; didn’t want to see him sitting with an easy grace at the end of the garden seat, so he looked at the neat expanse of grass that ran up to the house. If he kept looking at Schuldig, he really would press the issue. That would get him trussed up like a Christmas goose and flying higher than a kite for a good chunk of their two weeks in the mountains. Farfarello intended to have a good portion of his free time spent with Schuldig between the sheets. Or stretched out naked in the grass. Or sliding against one another in the hot spring. Or where ever he could manage to get the German naked, aroused and alone.

“Maybe I can woo Nagi away from his computer long enough to find out the name of the towns around here and how close they are,” Schuldig mused to himself.

Farfarello gave a short laugh. “You think Crawford would let you leave?”

Schuldig put his hands behind his head, and gave a slow, mean smile. “You think I’d bother asking his permission?” he returned.

Farfarello laughed lowly. “And we haven’t even been here one day,” he remarked.


• • • • • • • • • • • • •


Crawford stood at the window of the downstairs common room, looking out into the yard. What he saw didn’t please him.

The sun shone down out of a clear, blue sky; the gardens were in perfect order, as was to be expected. The scene was very pleasing to the eye. Or it would have been if not for two things, both of whom were sitting on a bench under a large tree. They looked relaxed, the pair of them, sitting there in the shade of the tree; they looked almost harmless. Crawford knew better. Schuldig and Farfarello were far from harmless individually; but when they were putting their heads together it could only mean monumental trouble.

It would be pointless explaining to them that none of Schwarz wanted to be here. There was no choice; this was their job. Schuldig wouldn’t want to hear that. All Schuldig cared about was that he didn’t want to be here. The telepath didn’t give a damn about what anyone else wanted. As for Farfarello…Crawford snorted softly. Crazy as a loon and deceptively cunning, Farfarello knew more – and less – than anyone could guess. Together, restless and bored, Mastermind and the Berserker were a recipe for nightmares.

My nightmares, to be exact, Crawford thought darkly as he continued to watch the pair.

He was annoyed with Takatori for dragging them up to the mountains without a concrete reason beyond wanting to show off his bodyguards. He’d argued politely and patiently against bringing all of Schwarz on this vacation but Takatori wouldn’t be swayed. This was a ridiculous situation – and a highly dangerous one. Even if the old bastard was unaware of the problems inherent with bringing Schuldig to a place like this, he had to be aware that bringing Farfarello was risky, to say the least. Yet, he’d still insisted on them all accompanying him on this jaunt, relying on Crawford to keep his team in check.

Thank you, Crawford thought at the absent Takatori. Thank you so fucking much.

During the duration of their stay, Schwarz had two official missions. The first involved taking care of a drug factory, located less than a dozen miles from the guesthouse, and its ambitious owner. It was a small, easy mission that, honestly, one of Takatori’s other bodyguard teams could have taken care of without too much trouble. The other was to stand duty at a small, informal function Takatori was putting on for a few local bigwigs from whom he was wooing support. A show of power and prestige. All in all, not a lot to keep the restive minds of Schuldig and Farfarello occupied. Crawford didn’t need to be a pre-cog to know that their current situation was a disaster waiting to happen.

Behind him, Crawford could hear soft sounds as the house staff prepared lunch. He dismissed them from his mind. His full attention was directed outside. In his considered opinion, Schuldig was looking far too relaxed out there. He wondered what Mastermind and Berserker could be talking about and decided that these were going to be the longest two weeks of his life. That thought seemed to be reinforced when Schuldig relaxed back on the bench, raising his hands and linking his fingers behind his head. If he’d looked relaxed before, he looked frighteningly content right now and he shouldn’t. He didn’t want to be here. He should be looking annoyed and edgy and ready to explode at the slightest irritation, not relaxed and content and at peace with the world. Schuldig was up to something. Whatever had happened out there, Crawford knew he wasn’t going to like it.

He remained where he was, watching and thinking, until lunch was served and Schwarz gathered together around the table. Once they’d all served themselves from the dishes available and were eating, Crawford looked to his telepath.

“Anything to worry about?” he enquired. He figured that if there was, Schuldig would have already mentioned it, but it always paid to check.

“Nothing,” the German replied.

“His other security?” Crawford pressed.

Schuldig directed a smirk Crawford’s way. “They’re mainly pre-occupied with fantasies about the old goat’s young girlfriend. When they’re not dreaming about nailing her, they’re focused on their jobs. A couple of them are wondering what we’re doing here.”

“Let them wonder,” Crawford replied.

“I wasn’t planning on briefing them,” Schuldig said, serious again. He leveled his blue gaze at his leader. “But it’s a fair question,” he added.

Crawford returned the gaze evenly. “Stop pushing,” he warned.

Schuldig gave a lazy shrug and returned to poking at his food. Crawford watched him a few seconds more before turning his attention to his own lunch.

“Bend,” Farfarello muttered from across the table.

Crawford frowned at the Irishman, catching the small, humorless smile that formed on Schuldig’s lips.

“Fuck off,” the German growled half-heartedly.

Crawford had no idea what they were talking about, and wasn’t sure he’d want to know anyway. Instead he finished chewing then said, “After lunch, we’ll go over the plans for Takatori’s get-together.” He heard the breath Schuldig took and fixed him with a look. “Don’t,” he warned.

“I was…”

“Don’t,” Crawford advised again.

Schuldig scowled then sulked. Farfarello chuckled lowly as he stirred his spoon around in his soup. Nagi glanced between his leader and Schuldig, his expression unreadable. Crawford ignored them all while he finished his lunch. It was going to be a very long two weeks.


• • • • • • • • • • • • •

Schuldig had been fully expecting Crawford to keep him back when the meeting broke up. When that didn’t happen, he figured Crawford knew that trying to explain to him yet again that they had to be here and how he had to accept that fact would be a waste of time and decided not to bother. That was fine with him.

At the meeting he’d heard all about the stupid fucking party that would be held in four night’s time, and that was enough to piss him off all over again. He wasn’t in the mood for another lecture from the American. He was going to watch some television, and hope like hell the programs would numb his brain enough that he wouldn’t notice his surroundings.

In the den, he flopped onto the couch, re-positioned cushions to make himself more comfortable and emanated a mental buzz that warned away anyone who might think it a good idea to disturb him. The fact that the mental buzz failed became apparent when Farfarello strolled into the room and invaded his personal space. Not that Schuldig really minded so much. Farfarello was a quiet companion. Schuldig was also finding that daytime television was no better in the mountains than it was in Tokyo and he was already half-asleep.

Farfarello settled himself on the floor, his back against the couch seat where Schuldig sprawled gracelessly. He reached for the remote and began to channel surf. Schuldig watched through half-closed eyes, too comfortable to move even enough to object. Before long, something caught Farfarello’s attention and he sat with the remote pointed at the television, but no longer changing the channels. Schuldig could hear the English commentary – something about caves in Peru. It was nothing that would fire up the Irishman, he concluded, as he allowed his eyes to slide fully shut.

He woke up with a start, aware that he was being roughly shaken and vaguely aware of another – familiar and unwelcome – sensation.

“Wha…?” he began.

“You’re talking in your sleep,” Farfarello informed him as he removed his hand from the telepath’s shoulder, “which might be interesting if I could understand a word you’re saying.”

Schuldig groaned then yawned, stretching expansively. He stopped dead as he understood what that unwelcome sensation had been – something brushing against his mind. For a split second, reactive fear brought bile to his throat before he recognized the touch and lurched upright.

“Bitch! Bitch! Fucking bitch!” he spat furiously.

Farfarello turned his head towards his suddenly provoked team mate but Schuldig paid him no mind. She was gone now, but she hadn’t been quite quick enough or careful enough. He’d felt her as she’d fled from his waking mind. He grew still as he checked his shields. As far as he could tell, they hadn’t been breached, but he closed his eyes once more and set about checking through his own mind, searching for signs of any little ‘gifts’ that might have been left.

Once Schuldig was satisfied she hadn’t contaminated his mind, he went in pursuit. Although he was still recovering from a devastating attack, he was still better than she was. He found her effortlessly and swarmed into her mind, pushing past ineffectual shields and ignoring her pained cries. He didn’t bother with pleasantries, like asking why she’d been trying to get into his head; he simply went digging for the answers himself. If she was attempting to sneak into his head, she’d probably try lying about why she’d been there in the first place anyway. He was aware of her screams, aware of the frantic voices of her team mates and ignored them all. He ripped into her memories, thoroughly pissed off with people trying to use his mind as their private playground.

He lost himself in the search and only snapped back to reality when he was shaken violently. Coming back to himself, he found Crawford leaning over him, the precog’s fingers digging into his shoulders.

“Stop it!” Crawford hissed.

Schuldig blinked at him momentarily as he regained his sense of the here and now. Then he raised his arms, but Crawford let go his hold before Schuldig could knock his hands away.

“Fuck you,” the telepath snarled angrily, pushing his hair back from his face. “Fuck all of you!”

“Calm down,” Crawford ordered as he straightened up.

Schuldig glared up at him. “No, I won’t calm down,” he shouted back. “I am sick of people trying to fuck with me.” He jabbed a finger at Crawford. “You tell your boyfriend to keep his bitch out of my head. If I sense her trying to sneak in one more time, I’ll get him after I puree her brains.”

Even through his anger, Schuldig saw the way Crawford stilled. It lasted the briefest of times – so quick that if you didn’t know Crawford you would’ve missed it. But Schuldig knew the American and knew what that stillness meant; Crawford was angry. Not just annoyed angry, but truly pissed. He wasn’t sure if it was from the very real threat of doing serious mental harm to several other team members or because somebody was screwing with his own team.

“You will not threaten another team,” Crawford instructed in glacial tones. “Nor will you threaten the leader of another team.”

Schuldig was riled. He didn’t care how angry Crawford was, he was angrier and wasn’t about to back down. He had just cause to be enraged from the invasion of his mind. He scrambled to his feet, still glaring at his leader. “No? What about them, huh? What about al-fucking-mighty Stärke?” he demanded.

“Schu…”

“Don’t tell me to calm down!” Schuldig shouted, gesturing sharply.

“They haven’t threatened you,” the precog pointed out in brittle tones.

“Not with words, but that bitch keeps trying to get into my head. Why? Personal curiosity?” Schuldig snorted. “I don’t think so. She’s doing it on orders. What right do they have to keep trying to get into my head? I’m okay. I’ve told them I’m okay – there’s no need for them to keep trying to invade my mind, yet it’s still happening!” He stopped, anger making him breathe hard. “You know what’s worse? That they tried to sneak in while I was asleep. You want to have a chat to your old Rosenkreuz buddy about that? You want to have a chat with him about honor amongst thieves and all that bullshit, because he seems to have forgotten we’re on the same fucking side!”

“I intend to speak with him,” Crawford reassured him, frost in his voice.

Schuldig stood there a short while longer, regaining his breath and his temper, his gaze locked with that of the unflappable America. Crawford returned the gaze, unblinking, until Schuldig drew a deep steadying breath and turned away. As he headed for the door, he heard Crawford call his name. Schuldig ignored him and slammed out of the house.

He’d taken maybe two dozen steps before he realized he had no idea where he was going. He was in the mountains, for fuck’s sake! He was at Takatori’s guest house and, while he knew the layout of the house intimately, he had no idea where it was located in regards to nearby towns. Even had he known, unless there was a town very close by, he wouldn’t be able to get there, anyway, seeing as he didn’t have any transport. Of course, he could swipe one of the limos – that’d be fun – but it would probably also incur the wrath of not only Crawford, but Takatori as well.

Stopping halfway between the house and the woods, Schuldig put his hands in his pockets and considered his situation. Bare seconds had passed before he’d tipped his face to the sky, eyes closed, and laughed at the frustration of it all.

• • • • • • • • • • • • •

TBC