Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Sick of It ❯ Chapter 1

“Sick of It”
By Viridian5
8/19/09

RATING: PG-13; Farfarello/Schuldig. If m/m interaction bothers you, pass this by.
SPOILERS: None.
SUMMARY: Even assassins can catch colds.
ARCHIVAL/DISTRIBUTION: Anywhere, as long as you ask me first.
FEEDBACK: can be sent to Viridian5@aol.com.
DISCLAIMERS: All things Weiß Kreuz belong to Koyasu Takehito, Project Weiß, Polygram k.k., and Animate Film. No infringement intended.
NOTES: Thanks to tarot_card_, Rosaleendhu, and especially Syvia for pre-reading.

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“Sick of It”
By Viridian5
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Even with the door to Farfarello’s room closed, Schuldig could hear his clogged, wet breathing from in the hall. Good. He should suffer for passing his whatever-the-hell on to Schuldig.

The cold just kept mutating into new symptoms, and Crawford was less than sympathetic to Schuldig’s complaints, as if Crawford were ever a good patient himself. The man was a mean invalid, especially if he’d foreseen it coming but been unable to prevent it with warmer clothes, earlier bedtimes, vitamin C.... Schuldig would snicker audibly at all that if he didn’t know he’d catch hell for it. For times when Crawford felt really sick, he kept a bell and a fucking whip near his bed to make sure he got proper service from his minions.

Nagi didn’t behave much differently when sick, mostly keeping to himself unless forced otherwise and telekinetically bringing himself food and medicine. Occasionally he’d mutter something about the weaknesses of the flesh. But sometimes he’d be so sweet and cute and needy that Schuldig would make him tea, hot cocoa, hot pretzels, or something. An occasional flare-up of maternal instinct was only one of the quirks that came from telepathically absorbing people. It didn’t help that the kid had those huge eyes.

When Schuldig got sick, he wanted to go to bed and have someone take care of him too but instead he had to deal with shit like this. He unlocked Farfarello’s door, turned the light on, and entered with a croaked, “Good evening, starshine. Why the hell you felt the urge to misbehave when you know you’ll get hung upside-down for it is beyond me.”

“You do similar.” In addition to croaking, Farfarello sounded like he could barely breathe.

“I don’t get hung upside-down to drown in my own snot.” Schuldig took him down, quickly got him out of his straitjacket, and gave him a tissue. The long, wet, loud honk that resulted grossed him out. It went on for so long that you’d think Farfarello had been blowing his brains out along with accumulated mucus. When Farfarello started to hand the goo-filled tissue back, Schuldig said, “Nah, that’s all right. You keep it.”

Farfarello tossed the tissue to the side and started to stretch his arms out and around to work out the straitjacket stiffness. “We’re working tonight?”

“Yeah. Just simple killing people, since we wouldn’t sneak up on anyone successfully while we’re sniffling, snorting, attempting to breathe, and coughing.” If only the coughing would get the gunk out of the back of his throat.

“You could use telepathy to cloud their minds against the sounds of our sickness.”

“That’s a lot of work, and my head already hurts.”

“Mine doesn’t.” He simply felt it as neutral pressure.

“I hate you.”

“This won’t be so bad though. Maybe I’ll even spit globs of green goo into their faces and enjoy their expressions before I kill them.”

“You’re adding snot goblins to your weapons repertoire?”

“I like the sound of that.”

“Take some medicine. I took some myself. It shouldn’t ruin your production of snot goblins too much; in fact, the expectorant might even help. I want you over this thing so you can’t re-infect me with it.”

“You didn’t get it from me the first time.” But he chugged down the cough and cold medicine liquid Schuldig had measured out for him.

“Open your mouth. I want to make sure you didn’t just pretend to swallow.”

Farfarello opened his mouth wide with a loud and sarcastic “Ah!” and also raised his tongue so Schuldig could see under it. It gave Schuldig a great sampling of pungent, fake cherry medicine-scented breath. At least he couldn’t smell things as well as usual while sick.

“Satisfied?” Farfarello asked.

“Rarely,” Schuldig answered as he felt Farfarello’s forehead for fever. Farfarello did horrible things to thermometers. At least he felt just as hot to the touch as he always did. “We have enough time for you to take a hot shower. It’d do you good.” Schuldig was a sadist and a caretaker. As usual, he contained multitudes.

“Are you saying I smell?”

“Thanks to you I can’t really tell.”

“How do you suppose I gave you my cold?” Farfarello leaned in closer. “Exchange of fluids?” He made it sound seductive.

“The polite thing to do would be to warn a person if you have an illness coming on.”

“I didn’t feel it.”

“Of course you didn’t.” Schuldig turned his head to the side to cough and avoid Farfarello’s one-eyed stare. “The only thing I want to do in bed these days is sleep.”

“Vengeance on Crawford would make you feel better.”

“If he weren’t such a mean invalid, I’d spit a snot goblin into his coffee and disguise it with some creamer.”

“That’s my Schuldig. I’ll make the kills go faster tonight so you can get to your bed sooner.”

“You’re so kind to me.” At least being sick didn’t stop him from sounding sarcastic when necessary.

“You can kill people and then go to bed, two of your favorite things.”

“You’re trying to manipulate me.”

“I could wait on you, as long as Crawford doesn’t hang me from the ceiling.”

“You’re definitely trying to manipulate me.”

“Is it so awful to be ‘manipulated’ if you get pampering out of it? I’ll make it worth your while.” Farfarello held him tightly and planted hot, dry kisses along his neck.

Feeling somewhat fevered, Schuldig couldn’t decide if he enjoyed the kisses and hug or not. Still.... “It damned well better be high quality pampering.”

Magnanimous in victory, Farfarello grinned. “It will be. I swear it.” Then he sneezed. On Schuldig.

  **********************THE END***********************

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