Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Who's Your Daddy? ❯ Chapter 1

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

“Who’s Your Daddy?”
By Viridian5
1/1/10

RATING: PG; Schuldig/Crawford. If m/m interaction bothers you, pass this by.
SPOILERS: some for “Mission 18: Schuld-- Farfarello” and the Dramatic Image Schwarz CDs.
SUMMARY: Farfarello’s evolving powers and beliefs make trouble for Schuldig.
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: This story occurs sometime after Glühen.
This is a piece originally written as background for a roleplay Schuldig account that I made some rewrites to so it would work within regular canon. Thanks to Rosaleendhu and tarot_card_ for pre-reading.

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“Who’s Your Daddy?”
By Viridian5
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Schuldig had the information they’d come for. Few people could hold much back once Farfarello started using his electrical methods of persuasion. It smelled like burnt hair, pork barbecue, and gunpowder in the room. Aloha. While smoking one of their victim’s cigarettes to make more of his own contribution to the smell, Schu kept his mind open to pick up any last tidbits of data amidst the waves of pain and to see if any more thugs would be coming. He and Farfarello had already destroyed a small army, but thugs tended to be a renewable resource.

There’s one. Schu shot him through the head as soon as the guy opened the door.

“Are we done?” Farf asked, bouncing up on his toes, smiling. He looked so cute when he smiled, from something about the way it made the scars on his face pull.

Schuldig refused to think about that. “I have it. We’re done.” While it made him nostalgic to have an old teammate back and happy that Farf had broken free from that succubus Sally’s mental thrall, Farfarello presented some difficulties to Schuldig’s emotions and telepathy. Parts of him liked Farfarello a lot, maybe too much, but Farfarello’s developing electrical abilities created a kind of crackling interference that Schuldig had to build thicker mental shields to escape.

Farfarello slashed through the man’s throat to finish him then cleaned the blade on the vic’s shirt before sheathing it. He turned off the lights as they left.

As they walked to the car, Farfarello said, “Do ye ever think about the elder gods?”

“Cthulu? We stopped the elders so we wouldn’t have to bow down to some many-tentacled thing from beyond. Masafumi Takatori was already almost enough to turn me off calamari.” Schuldig shuddered more from the feel of Farf’s barely pent-up electricity slithering between them than from the memories.

“Nah, the forebears of the more modern gods, like as in Mother Earth and Father Sky.”

“And She got earth because... yeah. Even older gods come from unimaginative sex jokes. No, I don’t think about it. Why, Farf?”

“The male god was almost always a lightning god.”

A lot of times it didn’t take much to set Schuldig up in conversations because the mindreading gave him cue cards. With Farf’s mind being as difficult as it was and Schuldig’s recent increased shielding, it took longer. “No. You are not a god. You are not a demigod, a half-god, or a son of a god. I don’t see why you’d even want to be considering what shit their lives usually end up being but no, you are not. And I’m sure as hell not paying you any tribute.”

Farfarello just smiled, serene and secure in his knowledge. “No tribute at all?”

“Just this.” As Schuldig got in the car, he flipped him off American style. As he drove away without Farfarello, he yelled out the window, “You can get home on the back of a donkey!”

About four blocks away, Schuldig had to park and stop the car for a bit to rest his head on the steering wheel. Farf thought he was some kind of fucking divinity, like he needed to get crazier ideas about religion and his relationship with it. More than ever, Schuldig regretted that Sister Ruth had gotten her stupid ass killed before he could have dug into what porridge passed as a mind for her. Of course, his thoughts of how that meeting would have gone tended to be along the lines of him shaking her as he ripped into her mind and asked repeatedly, “Who was his father, you stupid bitch?” before killing her himself. There are these things called “tact” and “smarts,” Sister, you might have wanted to try using on your own son before you drove him utterly around the bend....

What the hell was it with him and psychos anyway? Schuldig gave himself some slack: psychos made up at least 50% of the people he worked with.

When he arrived home, the dining room table had been beautifully set. Although the dinner for Nagi and some of his organization’s representatives that night would be made by a caterer and delivered later, Brad, of course, would want the table done his own way. “You’ll make someone a fine wife someday, Brad Crawford,” Schuldig said.

Brad didn’t deign to answer that and just simply asked, “Finished the mission?”

“We got everything we needed and a little more besides.”

“Where’s Farfarello?”

“Playing Jesus to the lepers in his head. He thinks he’s half-divine today.”

“Wonderful.”

“He can walk back here. You’re the one who wants to take him on permanently again. Why did you delay us so long from getting to him faster during the Sister Ruth disaster?”

“Most of the time I see short-term. Short-term said it was best to delay.” Brad had his seeing-into-the-distance look on. “Hmmm. At least he’ll arrive within the two hours necessary today.”

“Hmm? Oh. Good one, Carnak the Magnificent.”

Brad gave him an assessing look. “Come over here.”

Schuldig shot him a look but came over. Brad grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him in close, giving him calm stillness to bathe in. Eyes closing, shields unconsciously opening to drink it in better, Schuldig leaned his head against Brad’s and relaxed. “Nnnngh.”

Stroking Schuldig’s hair, Brad murmured, “Much better. No more lines of strain around your eyes. Now you’re fresh as a tiger lily, perfect for the table. It’ll take him a while to get you that frazzled again.”

Brad knew Nagi would be watching Schuldig to see how Schwarz had been treating him lately, and Brad had no intention of letting his operatives be poached by anyone, let alone by his former protégé. “You’re such an asshole,” Schuldig said but smiled and nuzzled Brad’s neck. For the first time in ages, he didn’t have that charged feeling in the apartment crawling all over his skin and mind.

“There’s such a big difference in you when he’s not here.”

“I’ve been saying that.” Felt so good and indolent right now. Nuzzling.... “Nagi will probably arrive about 15 minutes earlier than he has to, which means in less than two hours. That’s about how long it’ll take the caterers to bring the food, right? How long do you think it would take Farf to get here?”

“You smell like death....” Brad smiled. “We’ll have enough time.”

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

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