This fic is for Crazy Miko, since she was the 500th hit at my website. Uhm, *blushes*, she’s had a wee bit of a wait for it. My bad. Sorry, sweetie.
Disclaimer: Does anyone out there really think I own Weiß? Really? And that I make money off this? Nope, didn’t think anyone was that delusional.
‘Fever’ came about upon thinking of the end of the WK OAV’s. What if Schwarz kept their promise?
Tons of thanks to Forsaken for the beta read.
Aya stumbled, his left shoulder thumping against the stucco wall of a house as he desperately tried to regain his balance, barely managing to keep himself from falling. If he still believed in praying, he’d thank the kami for the fact that it had been his unwounded shoulder that he’d bumped, but he’d given up on such nonsense years before. Even that slight impact had jarred his gunshot wound, causing his nerves to burn with agony.
He’d been shot… he had no clue exactly how long ago he’d been wounded. He could scarcely remember the mission, only able to recall scraps of it. Yohji, using his wires to take out a guard on the roof, the man’s death throes sending his rifle scattering across the roof and breaking a skylight. Omi, frantically calling out orders as Weiß tried to salvage the mission and take out the target. The air becoming saturated with the scent of copper from both Aya’s and the target’s blood. Aya had been the closest to the man, and had been concentrating to such a degree on completing their objective that he never even noticed whom it had been who’d shot him.
There was a confusing memory of his team breaking apart, determined to lose their pursuers. Someone had shouted at Aya that they would find him, but he’d been too busy stripping a guard of his jacket to staunch his wound to be certain of whom it had been. That jacket had been lost… ages ago, and another one had taken its place. Aya didn’t know how long he’d been wandering the streets of … Kyoto, this was Kyoto, he finally recalled. He could see that he’d stumbled onto the Imperial Palace grounds, and would have to be wary of guards as he cut through the complex to reach the subway line.
He stopped at the Itsukushima shrine and fetched a metal ladle out of a pool of water, splashing the cool liquid against his face. He was burning with fever and weak from blood loss, his thoughts becoming jumbled in his head. The scent of incense made him dizzy, but he forced himself onward. The pine trees that surrounded the Imperial structure loomed in the night sky as if sentinels, staring down at him reproachfully for his trespassing. He’d have to seek out the kinder, smaller cherry and camellia trees, vanish amidst them as he’d once done when his sister and he had played in the park near their home…
Cursing himself, he stumbled again, tripping over a root and crashing into the ground. Pine needles poked at his sweaty face, a minor inconvenience as his shoulder throbbed in agony with each beat of his heart. Coughing slightly, each wrack sending a shiver of pain through his body, he forced himself back onto his feet. He had to make it to the subway, had to reach the designated meeting place that Weiß had decided on should things go bad tonight. Aya laughed for a few short seconds, a hoarse grating sound, and pressed a hand against his still bleeding wound. Oh yes. Something had definitely gone wrong tonight.
He finally reached the street. Checking carefully for any signs of his pursuers, he cautiously stepped off the sidewalk and started to cross the road. No more than four dragging steps from the curb, a sports car revved down the street and came to a screeching halt before him. Blinded by the headlights, Aya shakily drew his katana as he squinted his eyes, desperate to see his attackers, to take down as many as he could before he died. At least he’d purified himself with the shrine’s water moments before, more or less….
"For fuck’s sake, Abyssinian, you look half dead. Get in the damn car."
He blinked for a moment, his eyes teary from the bright light, as a tall, lanky form got out of the car. That had been Kudoh’s voice, hadn’t it? As the man drew near, Aya saw that it was indeed his teammate. The katana fell back to his side as he trembled in relief, his battered body relaxing for the first time in ages.
"Did you hear me? Hey, are you alright?"
The scent of pine was replaced by that of cigarettes, sweat and a hint of something else, some sort of cologne…. What the hell had Yohji been thinking? That he’d meet a potential fuck while out on the mission tonight? Aya glared weakly at the other man as a hand gently but insistently pried the weapon from his fingers and tugged him towards the vehicle. Shaking his head, he tried to remember when Yohji had gotten it fixed. Hadn’t it been totaled during the chase after the American army soldiers?
"Shhh, Ayan, you think too much." As Aya tried to pull away from his teammate, suddenly suspicious of him, the darkness that had been giving way to a slowly rising sun suddenly returned and engulfed him. Aya dimly felt himself fall into a pair of cool arms before he passed out.
There was pain. It wasn’t an unaccustomed sensation. Pain had seemed to plague him constantly these past three years or so, in one form or another. But now there was also heat, a burning hotness that made his skin feel as if it would split open at any moment, stretched as tight as it was over his bones. Aya moaned softly, thrashing about in his seat as he tried to tug his heavy leather coat open, wanting to feel cool air on his enflamed flesh.
"Shit. We’re almost there, couldn’t you have stayed out for another two minutes?"
That voice…. There was something familiar about that voice. He tried to marshal his scattered wits, to figure it out. Forcing his eyelids open, he immediately closed them as light stung his sensitive eyes, hissing as he did so. The sensation of motion ceased, and there was a slamming sound. Next came a sudden rush of air, and a hand tugged at his left arm, dragging him out of his seat.
"Come on, Fujimiya, a little help here would be appreciated," Ken grumbled as Aya was literally hauled out of a garage and through various dark rooms. Things blurred together, but he tried to make sense of his surroundings. Were they back at the Koneko? Or was it some safehouse? Weren’t Weiß supposed to be staying in a trailer now? He moaned as the right side of his body banged into a doorway, the agony wringing the sound of pain from him as the world threatened to fade away once more.
Again the voice roused something in his mind, and Aya tore himself from his helper’s grip, flailing about wildly until he backed up against the wall. For a moment he saw a tall foreigner staring at him, green eyes disapproving and then Omi was there, standing with his hands on his hips like always when the teen was about to rip into one of his friends for something.
"Aya-kun, I’m trying to help you here. Stop behaving so silly and calm down. I need to look at your wound. You seem to have lost a lot of blood." Aya moaned again, a soft whisper of sound as he started to slide down the wall. Strong hands gripped his arms once again, sending another wave of agony through him as he was hustled down a hallway into a room flooded with moonlight and a touch of red from the rising sun. It was empty of anything besides a huge bed draped with white sheets and a small table with a rectangular box perched on top of it.
Aya was pushed down on the bed, his body all but collapsing under the pressure exerted against his left shoulder. For a moment he lay on the cool sheets that smelled of fresh air and cedar, and then found himself tugged upright. "Yuck, you’re getting blood on the sheets. What possessed you to wander around downtown Kyoto for hours on end, hurt this badly?"
Omi’s voice nagged at him as the boy worked on the belt of his leather coat. His eyes closed, Aya tried not to give in to the sense of vertigo that assailed him. For a moment he couldn’t tell if he was sitting up or not, but the pain of his coat being removed from his wounded shoulder jolted him back to reality. The redhead moaned again.
"This looks bad."
There was another wave of agony as the shirt he’d used to as a bandage was torn from the bullet wound. Breathing deeply through his mouth as he tried not to pass out, Aya didn’t resist when Omi started to cut away his shirt. Cold metal against his overheated skin felt so good.
Once his upper body was naked, except for the leather collar around his neck, Aya moaned another time, relishing the feel of cool spring air.
"Great, besides having a fucking big hole in your shoulder and losing way too much blood, you’ve got a fever as well. Don’t believe in doing things halfway, do you now?"
Forcing his eyes open, Aya stared into a pair of pale green eyes. Dark emotion threatened to overwhelm him, a broiling mixture of hate and anger, and then the eyes blinked and darkened to emerald. Yohji gazed back at him, a smile on the man’s lush lips, and Aya trembled at the feel of a hand caressing its way down his chest and stomach. For a second he wondered where Omi had disappeared to, but the hand traced its way up, stirring a hint of pleasure as it brushed past a nipple, soon followed by pain as it prodded the still bleeding wound.
Biting into his bottom lip, Aya barely heard what his teammate was telling him. "-went clean through. I’m going to clean it and bandage it up; no swordplay for you for the next couple of weeks. Dammit, you never should’ve let someone hurt you like this. Stupid ass, when will you learn to take care of yourself?"
"I… got the target," Aya rasped, his throat parched and hurting. "You… were the one who messed up." Hadn’t Yohji screwed up somehow that night?
Yohji only grunted and reached for the box on the table. There was the sound of paper being torn, and Aya shivered in pleasure as something soft and cool swabbed at his fevered body. It felt as if ice was being pressed against his torn flesh, and then he felt the sting as the alcohol wipe ran over his injury. It was as if thousands of needles were biting into his wound, and he thrashed about. A strong hand clamped around his shoulder and neck, holding him still as the torture continued, first on his chest and then his back.
A hand brushed aside his bangs, which had become stuck to his forehead with the aid of sweat. "It’s okay, the wound doesn’t seem as bad as it appeared. Now for the hard part." The hand then stroked down the side of his face and neck, a soothing touch that made him close his eyes in relief. When the hand vanished, Aya swayed on the bed, longing for the touch to return and help distract him from the pain. When was the last time he’d let anyone touch him? It seemed that his teammates only came close when he was wounded.
"Brace yourself." Yohji’s voice whispered in his ear, and then Aya felt something drive into his wounded body, a burning pain that had him biting into his lip until blood flowed. Yohji was cleaning his injury, making sure no bullet fragments remained inside him, but why hadn’t the man given him some sort of painkiller first? Was he afraid that the target’s men could track them even here?
Aya buried his face against Yohji’s chest, desperately trying to keep his body still and his voice silent as the torture continued. The older man was going about the task as quickly as he could, but it was still unbearable. Then a thought occurred to Aya. Why wasn’t Omi doing this? Since when had Yohji known how to treat such a serious wound?
"Hush, Aya-kun. I’m almost done. Stop trying to pull away or it’ll take longer." Omi’s voice was low and serious, filling Aya’s ears just as Yohji’s scent filled his other senses. Who was holding him? Omi or Yohji? Aya tried to make sense of situation, but the pain and fever prevented him from doing so, only making his thoughts more and more muddled with each breath.
Refusing to pass out, Aya sought to distract himself while Yohji cleaned his wound. He counted himself lucky when it was a physical agony that gripped his body instead of the devouring ache that usually filled his heart and mind. He was a monster, a murderer, and he could never escape that fact. Although injuries would often distract him from the emptiness inside his chest, for a while at least, so Aya never complained about them unless they prevented him from taking part in a mission. It was so much easier to tell himself that the pain was because of a gunshot wound and not the fact that his soul was dead and his heart a shriveled, useless thing. He deserved all the agony he felt….
"There, I’m all done." Once more the cool wipes were back, cleaning his upper body of blood and grime. It felt like heaven, and Aya didn’t complain when Omi wiped more than just his wounds. The cotton pad swiped across his nipples, causing the pale man to suck in his breath, and then ghosted up his neck, right along his pulse point.
Opening his eyes, Aya found Yohji staring at him, the green orbs half concealed by heavy lids and a hungry smile on his handsome face. Aya could feel Yohji’s breath on his face, and something in him went cold at that look. He shoved Yohji away from him and scrambled to his feet. Or at least tried to, and only ended up falling onto his face once more.
"You’re such a stubborn bastard!" Hands jerked him upright, and Aya felt a trickle of blood down his chest. He gazed at Schuldig for a moment, too stunned and dazed to resist as he was shaken a time or two, then things went dark and when he snapped back he found Ken shoving him down on the bed. "Here I am actually being nice to you, and you have to be a prick as usual."
"Hidaka… where did Omi and Kudoh go?" Hadn’t they been here a moment ago? Everything was becoming a blur to him, and reality had gained the fuzzy, distant feeling it often did when he was drugged or just about to pass out. Something pressing against his wound made Aya hiss softly and force open his eyes, which he hadn’t been aware of closing. Omi was wrapping his wound, the white gauze barely paler than his skin.
"Now behave for once," Aya was chided as Omi put the bandages away and started to tug at his boots. When those were gone the teenager started to remove his teammate’s pants, pushing at Aya’s hips to get him to lift them up. Knowing that Omi was just trying to clean him up before putting him to bed, the pale man nonetheless felt uncomfortable and embarrassed at stripping down to his shorts in front of the boy. Which didn’t make sense, especially considering the amount of times Omi had done just this in the past.
Things blurred once more, and Aya leaned back on the bed, grateful that his clothes were mostly gone as he rested against the cool sheets. "Omi… water?" He was so very thirsty, and the thought of cool water soothing his parched throat almost made him groan.
A low chuckle reverberated through the room. "Ach, you’re really burning up. Damn fever probably has you all dehydrated as well." A plastic bottle was pressed into Aya’s hand, and he found that he didn’t even have the strength to lift his head as he drank. The lukewarm water flowed into his mouth, some spilling down his face and into the sheets. It was wonderful, and it seemed he had only had a few drops before the bottle was empty.
The container was removed from his hand, and a piece of cotton wiped up the water on his face and neck. It felt so good against his skin, and Aya didn’t do anything when his chest was once more was caressed by the damp cloth, making his skin tingle with something other than pain for once.
A weight settled on the bed for a moment, jarring Aya and making him suck in his breath in pain. He opened his eyes to see Yohji straddle his hips and lean down, long strands of hair brushing against his sensitive flesh. "What- get off of me." Aya struggled to shove his teammate off of him, but could barely raise his hands to push feebly against the blond.
Yohji leaned down close, pinning Aya’s hands to his sides as warm breath cascaded against Aya’s face. "I know you want me, Aya. I know you dream about what it would be like, if I spent the night with you and not one of my lover’s. Well I’m here now, and I want you just as much, if not even more."
It wasn’t true, none of it was. Aya had never had anything more than the occasional passing flash of interest in Kudoh. The man was a slut, and a straight one at that. All he’d been doing was responding to Kudoh’s handsome looks and lean body, which was almost always displayed for one’s pleasure. It was just a few flashes of lust, proving that Fujimiya Aya was still human. A bit of lust, and one or two barely remembered dreams that left him aching when he woke up….
A mouth pressed against his, a questing tongue prying his lips apart as it tried to gain entrance. Marshalling his strength, Aya shoved Yohji to the side and sat up, his breath coming in hitches as he tried to control his reaction to how incredibly good that had just felt, at the taste of cloves which still clung to his lips. A hand reached out and pushed against his wounded shoulder, making him weak with pain as he collapsed back onto the bed.
Schuldig once more straddled his hips and held his hands down as Aya tried to ignore the pain and weakness and force his body to move. But the fever sapped at his strength, burning away everything until he felt as if his bones had been replaced with rubber.
"You’re so damn stubborn. Half out of both your mind and supply of blood, and you’re still fighting me. I know I like a challenge, but this is getting ridiculous." The German swore softly in his own language and then leaned down again to kiss Aya. Twisting his head to the side, Aya clenched his eyes shut as a clever mouth sucked on and licked his neck, moving along the sensitive area and making him shiver when the air hit the saliva damp skin.
"Fuck off, Mastermind," he managed to stutter, trying desperately to deny how good it felt to have the man’s mouth on his skin. He could feel something hard press into his hip, and started to shift about when he realized what that meant. Injured or not, he wasn’t going to just lie here and let his enemy rape him. Schuldig had taken his parents away from him, had almost stolen away his sister for good as well, and Aya wasn’t going to let the man get away with the last of his dignity and innocence without a fight. But try as he could, he only managed to struggle weakly against the man.
<I’m not going to rape you, you stubborn fool. I want you willing, or else I’d have plucked you out of the wreckage years ago and kept you as a pet. You don’t know how much you’ve tempted me to do just that over the years, and I’m tired of only touching you in dreams or during fights. You’re mine, as of now.>
His vision turned red, and it took Aya a minute to realize that was because of the sun rising in the sky, staining the white walls and everything within the plain room the colour of blood. A colour that he was intimately familiar with over the past few years due to his profession. Rarely did a day go by that he didn’t see it, pouring from himself or his teammates, or one of their targets and the hapless fools who got in Weiß’s way. Yes, he was very familiar with blood; it was what bound him to Schuldig. The blood of his family….
Omi stared down at him, tears in his blue eyes. "It wasn’t my fault, Aya-kun. Why am I being blamed for something my father and brothers did? I thought you’d forgiven me for that, I thought you understood. It was all Takatori Reiji’s fault, everything that you and the rest of Weiß have suffered. I thought you laid the past to rest when Aya-chan woke up. How much longer are you going to make people suffer for what one man did?"
Takatori, it was Takatori who’d ordered his family killed. Just mention of that name filled his heart with hate, until Aya was burning with fury almost as much as the fever. He’d made Takatori pay, and had tried to lay aside his thirst for vengeance when his sister had woken up. Aya had achieved the goal he’d set out for years ago, and was left with spending the rest of his days as a murderer because of that. He was fated to spending his life alone, isolated even from other killers like him.
<Because you chose to do so. I know how you feel, Ayan, I know what it’s like to be turned into a murderer because Fate decides to fuck up your life. The other kitties try to deny the truth of what they are from themselves, but you never have. That’s why they let you hold yourself back from them, why you’re not part of their little family. They hide from the truth and you don’t. But you don’t have to hide from me.>
"Go away, Schuldig. Leave me alone." Everything was red, the hair falling about his face, the bed he lay on, the very air itself. Aya was burning, his nerves screaming from the pain and heat, and all he wanted was for the fire to consume him and end his suffering. The darkness returned, and he let it wash over him and drag him away from the blood-coloured room.
Yuushi slapped his face, knocking Aya’s head to the side and splitting open the bite in his lip. "Are you giving up, Rook? Where’s the arrogant little prick who’d fight over anything and everything? I know you’ve buried the passion deep down inside of you, I know you can still feel something. I’m not letting you slip away."
"Leave me alone."
"No, I don’t think you want to be alone, Aya." Botan jerked his hands above his head, trapping Aya’s wrists in a tight grip. "You came back, didn’t you? All you needed was a justification for your silly pride, and you rejoined Weiß. You’ve stayed with them even when you could’ve slipped away and never be heard from again. Your sister was safe, your enemies gone and Kritiker too broken to chase after you. But you stayed. You don’t want to be alone, but you haven’t found someone to let in, to allow close to you either."
<But you can let me in. I know all your secrets, know all the things you’re afraid to show someone else and I still want you. I’m still here. Let go of your damn stubborn pride and anger, and take what I’m offering. It’ll make the both of us happy.>
This had to be a dream, nothing felt real except the fire that burned through his veins. Aya tossed his head back, his face running with sweat, and flexed his wrists against the hold that pinned them together. Why wouldn’t the torment end?
A cool hand stroking his cheek made Aya gasp in relief. He turned his face into the caress, wanting to feel more of the blessed coolness. It calmed the fire for a moment, brought him relief from the invasive heat.
An equally cool set of lips pressed against his, and this time he didn’t resist as a slick tongue slid into his mouth. The taste of cloves flooded his senses, and the fever died down at the feel of a body pressing against the length of his, pushing him back into the soft mattress as hips grinded against his. How odd, in all his dreams of Yohji the man’s touch had set him on fire, not calmed it down. Aya moaned softly as cool fingers teasingly stroked his ribs.
Yohji pulled away, making Aya glare as the blessed coolness vanished. Yohji chuckled, a low throaty sound that made Aya shiver. "It doesn’t have to be a dream, Ayan. It can be real, and I can be with you every night. Forget anger and hate, all they’ve done is made you alone. Passion and need on the other hand… they’ll make you burn, much like you’re doing now, but it will be in pleasure and not pain, and I’ll be right there beside you." As Aya stared at the blond, Yohji morphed into Schuldig, but his expression never changed.
Which one was real? Or were either of them really here with Aya, or were they just fever-induced dreams? Perhaps he was lying on the couch on the trailer, being fussed over by Omi and imaging the whole thing. Perhaps he was tucked in his bed at the Koneko, and had dreamed saving his sister and going off to live in Kyoto while she rebuilt her life in Tokyo. But why would he imagine Schuldig wanting him? Sure he’d dreamed of the man over the years, but never as a lover. They were enemies…
<But we don’t have to be. You’ve gotten your revenge, and your sister is alive and well. Who’s to say that if I hadn’t entered your life you’d still have your family with you? Maybe the cancer that was eating away at your mother’s ovaries wouldn’t have been found out in time. Maybe your father’s high blood pressure would’ve resulted in a heart attack or stroke. Maybe Aya-chan wouldn’t have remembered to look both ways before crossing a street. It’s the past, Ayan, leave it alone. Worry about the future instead. How much longer do you think you have, surrounded by two men who slide more into madness with each passing day, and another who longs to escape this business with all of his heart and will abandon you sometime soon? Grasp the only chance of happiness you have. I won’t let you down.>
The red was fading, but Aya still burned. What would be left when the blood was all gone? When the one thing that tied him to Weiß vanished? Omi was hiding something from him, he could feel it, and Aya was dreading the day when Ken and Yohji crossed the line and became dark beasts themselves. The white room grew stronger, and that made him afraid. Despite the name, he knew he was too sullied to live in whiteness. Aya-chan was pure, that was her world and not his. His was the color of blood and hate, the color of the fire that raced through his veins.
Shion stared at him sadly. "Throw away your thirst for vengeance, Ran. Let yourself be free."
Aya blinked his eyes.
Omi smiled at him sadly. "How long must someone pay for the sins of others, Aya-kun?"
"I know I’m just a murderer, but… when will I hold love in my hands, Aya?" Ken stared at him beseechingly, free of the trace of madness that grew with each passing mission. "Don’t you ever feel the same way?"
Yohji smiled at him and rubbed a thumb along Aya’s feverish cheek. "’When you gonna learn’, huh Aya-cha~n? We’re all sinners here, each and every one of us. We’ll never find salvation in redemption, not if we live to be a thousand. So take my advice, and seize whatever bit of pleasure you can."
Schuldig stared deep into his eyes, his lips brushing against Aya’s as he spoke. "You’ve lost something, sweet Ayan, and only you can win it back. Incant the spell. Admit what it is that you want, what you long for. We’re of the same stock, Ayan, we’re the same. Just say the word, and you’ll never be alone again. Your sister is awake and in another world, one you can never rejoin, and I’m the only one here beside you."
His blood rushed through his veins, roaring in his ears like the crash of the ocean. Schuldig’s touch was so cool, so calming, his fire-coloured hair blocking out the whiteness that Aya was beginning to fear. What was real and what wasn’t? The pain had pervaded his life, and all he longed for was it and the heat to go away, to leave him in peace. He wanted to feel something other than hurt and loneliness. "Make them go away, Schuldig." This was his dream, and he could do whatever he wanted.
<Of course, Ayan. Your wish is my command.> Once more Schuldig’s mouth descended upon his, making the pain fade away. His wrists were released, and Aya combed the fingers of his left hand into strands the colour of fire, but cool as silk. Schuldig’s hands stroked along his body, replacing the heat of fever with another type of burning altogether. For the first time in as long as he could remember, pain and loneliness abandoned Aya, and all he could feel was pleasure. It consumed him, filling him completely, and he longed for the emotion to never fade away. He wanted to feel like this forever.
Fire spread through him. But instead of sapping his strength he was filled with energy, with bliss and then Schuldig was inside him as well, a brief flash of pain that bled into ecstasy. He didn’t feel alone, in fact Aya felt whole for the first time in his life as the other man thrust into him, stretching and filling him so incredibly much that he couldn’t imagine what it felt like to be empty anymore. The pleasure kept increasing, amazing him at how high a crest it built to, more than he could ever have imagined feeling, and when it grew too much he shattered from the ecstasy and came back to himself in Schuldig’s arms, still not alone, still not in pain. The other man kissed him sweetly on the lips, a flash of cloves that lingered in his mouth as the darkness came back once again, even though Aya fought it this time, desperate for this one dream not to end.
Schuldig threaded his fingers through one of Aya’s eartails and worked out the tangles in the sweat-damp hair. His lover was resting on his side, deeply unconscious and so incredibly beautiful. Smiling, he leaned down to kiss Aya on the temple.
Ah, Aya’s fever was getting a touch too high. He’d better pump some antibiotics into the man and try to bring it down a little, and perhaps hook up an IV as well. It wouldn’t do for his Ayan to get too dehydrated. But it also wouldn’t do for the man to wake up all recovered, either. No, Schuldig planned on taking advantage of the swordsman’s condition for as long as possible, using the next few days to ensure that Aya would be his forever.
Rising from the bed to prepare the shots, one to bring the fever down a notch, another a painkiller that would allow him to rest from blocking the pain from Aya’s wound for the time being, Schuldig thought of how well things were proceeding. Really, the fever had been a stroke of pure luck, rendering a weak and injured Abyssinian even more confused and susceptible to his power. The first step was out of the way, on one level Aya had accepted him as a lover, even if it was all a ‘fever dream’. The poor thing would learn differently when he woke up, and Schuldig would use the man’s weakness to carry out his agenda.
For Aya, action was on the same par as thought. That was why the man could thwart his and Oracle’s powers on occasion. But it also left the man rather susceptible to manipulation. The fact that Aya had taken Schuldig as a lover once meant that he had an opening to work, and that when Aya was healed and returned to Weiß, he’d have accepted the fact that they would remain so.
Once the ministrations were taken care of, Schuldig lay back down on the bed and held Aya in his arms. Aya tossed fretfully for a moment, but a soothing touch to his cheek immediately settled him. Wishing he’d thought of closing the curtains before he’d gotten so comfortable, Schuldig arranged a sheet over the two of them, being careful of the IV tube and Aya’s wounded shoulder.
<How did things go, Mastermind?>
<Hee, don’t tell me you don’t know, Oracle. Or do you expect me to believe that you didn’t enjoy a vision of the two of us having sex?>
There was a hint of irritation from the precog. Schuldig smiled tiredly and kissed his lover on the forehead. He hoped the shots took effect soon since he was getting too tired to keep blocking the pain from the wound.
<May I remind you that I’ve only seen the outcome of this endeavor, not the thing in its entirety.>
<Well rest assured, things are proceeding smashingly. He’ll be completely mine in another day or two.>
<Good. Once that happens, Weiß will fall apart, and Schwarz will never have to worry about Kritiker again. That’s one less enemy we have to be concerned about, and I predict that Abyssinian will keep you out of too much mischief for years to come. I look forward to the respite.>
<Huhn, well you almost lost your chance of peace and quiet for good. A little more to the left and he’d have been dead, not wounded. I think you need to spend a little more time on the practice range, Bradley Crawford.> That was the last time Schuldig took the man’s word of being such a perfect shot.
<Whatever. I’ll get back to making sure that Weiß doesn’t track down their missing kitten and leave you to your fun.>
Alone in his head once more, Schuldig snuggled closer to Aya and closed his eyes. Schwarz would have their revenge on Weiß shortly, making sure that the team fragmented and that Balinese and Siberian fell into madness while Bombay became what he feared the most, a Takatori just like his ‘daddy’. Oh it would so much fun watching the assassins’ fall from grace and putting them out of their misery in a few years time, once they reached rock bottom. The only one spared would be Aya, and only because Schuldig hadn’t been able to get the man off his mind all these years, and had finally decided to give in to his traitorous heart. No, having his sweet Ayan would be revenge enough, and the result would be the same. Weiß destroyed.
But he still had some work ahead of him, and had better get some sleep now. Besides, he wanted to be awake and rested when Aya came to and realized that it hadn’t all been a fever induced dream. Oh yes, Schuldig was going to have his fun, and continue to do so for quite some time to come. Revenge had always been sweet, but this time it was simply delicious. Aya was finally his.
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