Who Said Romance Is Dead

Pairing: CxS (suggestive but nothing graphic)

A/N: This fic is unbeta'd - all screwups are my own.

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“Fuck!”

The curse from the ensuite was loud enough that Crawford heard it quite clearly from the bedroom.

Comfortably ensconced on the oversized, hotel bed, propped up against several plump pillows and with the laptop opened on his thighs as he prepared his update, Crawford had already acknowledged that the German’s arrival this evening had signalled the end of his peaceful existence.

For the previous two weeks, life had been almost relaxing and he’d had no interruptions to deal with as he planned this job. Now, Schuldig had arrived as arranged and Crawford’s days of blissful quiet had come to an end. Couldn’t be helped. He needed the telepath to complete this job.

He returned to completing his report, not letting the loud curse distract him from the task at hand. After all, it wasn’t like he’d never heard Schuldig swear before.

The sound of the shower being turned back on drew more of his attention than the curse had. He’d heard Schuldig turn the water off only a couple of minutes ago.

He frowned briefly to himself. He knew the German liked to be clean but, in his opinion, two consecutive showers bordered on obsessive. Maybe Schuldig had forgotten to rinse the conditioner out of his hair – it wouldn’t be the first time. Crawford dismissed it from his mind and turned his attention back to his mission update.

Despite the conclusion he’d reached, when Schuldig strolled into the room some fifteen minutes later, one large fluffy white towel wrapped around his waist and another being put to use rubbing at his hair, Crawford couldn't hold back.

"Two showers?" he queried.

Schuldig didn't stop toweling his hair but glanced out at Crawford from under a fall of water-darkened hair and white towel.

"Farf's Christmas gift," he replied. As he spoke, he moved and sat on the bed, hooking one leg up onto the mattress so he could face Crawford. He let the towel he was using on his hair drop to his shoulders and tossed his damp hair back from his face. He lifted an arm and examined it closely. "That shower gel he bought me had pink fucking sparkles in it. I didn’t notice them until I started to dry myself. I had to take another shower to get them off."

Crawford's raised eyebrow was a measure of his surprise. "Farfarello bought you gifts for Christmas?"

"Yeah," Schuldig answered, still examining his arm, obviously looking for stubborn leftover sparkles. "He approves of the overt materialism of Christmas because he believes it helps erode the false meaning the Church has attached to the day."

"Body products?" Crawford’s other eyebrow joined the first. Through firm resolve, he’d managed to push aside the image of Farfarello as a consumer that was trying to form in his head. Some things were best left unimagined. The same as some things were better left unasked. Crawford swallowed the urge to enquire what Schuldig gave Farfarello for Christmas.

"I don't know if he got the girly stuff on purpose because he thought it would be a laugh, or if he's just so inexperienced when it comes to shopping he has no idea what the fuck he's buying." Schuldig scratched at something on his forearm a moment before losing interest. He turned his attention to Crawford. "But let's forget about Farf and Christmas," he said, with a wicked smile. He grasped the towel lying around his neck and slowly pulled it off, dropping it to the floor. "Let me show you what I got you for Valentine’s Day."

Crawford knew what day it was but since Schuldig had said nothing about the occasion since his arrival, Crawford had hoped it had slipped his mind. He really ought to have known better.

As he’d spoken, Schuldig had moved and was now kneeling on the bed. Seeing he had Crawford’s attention, his smile became more wicked and he reached for the towel around his waist.

Crawford couldn't help but look as the towel fell away. As he felt his eyes widen involuntarily it occurred to him that there were occasions, not work-related, when his gift would be more than useful. He hadn’t seen this coming and the way Schuldig had wrapped the towel had kept the surprise secret until now.

"Oh, gift wrapped," Crawford managed to get out over his surprise. Gift-wrapped in red ribbon, no less.

“I hope you weren't expecting flowers," the German replied.

Crawford knew he shouldn't be surprised by anything the telepath did, but now and then the man still caught him off guard. He looked up into amused blue eyes. "Schuldig, you shouldn't have."

“Only for you, Brad," the German replied as he began to make his way towards Crawford. "Only for you."

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