Hard and fast, don't let them see it coming. Youji/Schuldig
Don't let them see it coming.
Be swift. Be silent. Be deadly.
Hit them hard and fast.
Easy enough rules to remember, and they had to remember them in their line of business. If you didn't, you wound up losing and losing usually meant a piece of lead in your heart.
Or head. It all depended on the aim, really.
Live by it to live, breathe by it to keep on breathing. And Schuldig lived it to the core. As part of his job, sure, because that was expected. But it was a part of who he was/, some fundamental property of /him that he'd picked up before he even knew how to fire a gun. Find the weak spot and strike.
That's what he did.
And oh, he did it well. The poor Kitten put up a fight, of course, all proud lines and hard eyes. I'm better than this. Than you, seemed to be the only thought running through that pretty little head.
Complete bullshit, obviously, since Schuldig caught glimpses of half-buried dreams and realities. It made him smirk and he'd zeroed in on his prey. Pinned him with blue eyes until the other man gave in.
It's your fault, all of this. You make me do this was Youji's favorite line of defense, whenever the German was near. Which could be true, if Schuldig wanted it to be, but then there'd be no spirit in the other man -no spark to fight back against. And lips always ended up being crushed together anyways, teeth snapping with too much force. Hands tugging on hair, over skin, tearing at clothes until nothing was left. Messy, chaotic, loathing and lust.
Hard and fast, that's how he liked it.
And if Schuldig was surprised at finding himself stuck between a wall and a hard place more often than not, he didn't voice it. No plan was perfect, after all, and he always took back what was taken plus a little more. If he had to bend to make Youji break, then it was no skin off his back.
Well, maybe a little...
"I don't like you," Youji always hissed when he came, but it wasn't hatred so it was close enough to 'like'. How much difference could one word make?
"You need me," was Schuldig's response, before he kissed and bit and fucked his way into Youji's life just that much more.
The Japanese man would go slack in his grasp in the end, or collapse bonelessly on top of him like he did now. I've got him, Schuldig thought. Then jade green eyes flared, half-lidded but there.
"Awww. You're even cuter when you're mad, kitten. So much spunk."
"I don't like you."
"But you don't hate me, do you?" The lazy drawl made that tanned body stiffen and Schuldig made it his responsibility to rectify that. A twist and flip and he was straddling the other assassin, hair falling over his shoulders. A bright red-orange, like a warning he saw from the corner of his eyes, one he ignored. "Why don't you smile for me?" he half-leered.
"You're sick," Youji snarled up at him but his hands still grasped his hips. Keeping him there.
'But you want me."
"Only because you make me."
And Schuldig would have protested, because there was only so many times he could listen to the same old tune, but a hand was fisted in his hair, yanking him down, and there was always later to explain these things to slow-brained assassins. But then, maybe Youji didn't want to listen.
When he wakes up later, the room is empty save for himself and the thin lines of morning that slithered through the blinds. Nothing new, Youji never stayed. It always made things so much easier that way.
Sitting up, Schuldig raked hair out of his face and stretched, then paused. There was something on the stained wood of the bedside table.
One of Youji's cattleya flowers.
Schuldig snorted and tossed it over his shoulder before noticing the letter. The German picked it up cautiously, as if it might explode, unfolding it with a flick of the wrist.
I hate you.
He wasn't that surprised to hear the faint click of a gun being cocked a moment later.
"You know," Schuldig drawled, eyes looking up with a lazy glint, "I should have broken you completely."
Youji smiled sharply, unpleasantly. "You didn't break me at all."
The German raised his hands in exasperation, ignoring the steel now pressed against his forehead. "C'est le vie and all that shit."
Things could always be changed, if you had the mind to do it.
Just don't let them see it coming.
Schuldig spared a second to wonder which one of them was blinder before the real fun began.