FicWad

I don't own any of them. Much to my chagrin. Just playing with the boys for a little while. No harm intended. Making no money.
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"Paaaaannnnnncccaaakkkeesss!" sang Schuldig's voice from his room.

Crawford paused upon hearing it. He supposed someone else had filtered into the telepath's mind because it had barely sounded like his voice.

He moved further down the hallway to check on Farf, finding him sitting in bed reading. Looked like Faust this time around.

Nagi was already up and fixing breakfast for himself. He had long since given up on cooking for anyone else. All Schuldig ever did was complain. Farf would eat anything that didn't bite first, bite back or attempt to escape and even then those stipulations were iffy at best. Hence it had become fend for ones self in the morning.

Schuldig bounded down the stairs twenty minutes later. Farf followed in his wake a bit more sedately. Schu spent a few minutes rummaging around in the cupboards, looking for something.

"Precisely why are you tearing the cabinets apart, Schuldig?" Crawford asked from behind the Wall Street Journal.

"I'm looking for something. Obviously."

"What might the something be?" Crawford said, one eyebrow lifting in suspicion.

"I want pancakes," Schuldig said, still rifling through the cabinets.

"I don't think we have any mix," Crawford said and went back to reading his paper.

Schuldig stared at the paper for a minute. "You're an American. Isn't it decidedly unpatriotic to not have pancake mix in any house where you live?"

"And I care about being unpatriotic because why?"

"Bah! I refuse to eat one more thing that Nagi calls food."

Whump!

Schuldig peeled his face away from the counter top. "If I never see anything that resembles noodles or fish again it'll be too soon."

Clunk! Crash!

"Scheisse! Damn it, Nagi. That hurt!" Schuldig said, rubbing his head where one of the coffee cups had hit him.

"It was supposed to hurt."

Schuldig glared at him briefly then went quiet for a minute. "JA!!!"

Everyone stared at him. Schuldig seized Nagi by the front of his shirt and Farf by the collar and dragged them both toward the door.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Nagi protested.

Farf was a bit more placid, only looking at Schuldig in mild curiosity. Crawford sighed and shook his head, knowing he'd probably come to regret whatever the telepath had in mind.

"Where might we be going?" Farf asked as soon as they were in the car and pulling out of the driveway.

"For real food. Nagi's a growing boy. He can't grow much on what he eats."

"I happen to like rice and fish, thank you," Nagi said primly from the back seat.

"You soooooooo need therapy," Schuldig said, screeching around a corner and pulling to a stop in a small parking lot. "Perfect! They just opened last week," he said beaming at the other two.

"What is it?" Nagi asked, looking in mild distaste at the bright blue roof of the building.

"A pancake house."

"Why would one choose to make a house from pancakes?" Farf asked, smiling slightly.

"Maybe it's like the gingerbread house in Hansel and Gretel," Schuldig mused.

"What?" Nagi asked.

"Never heard Grimm's fairietales? Mein gott! You are a deprived child. Come on."

Schuldig bounced out of the car and nearly flew to the doors of the place. He frowned slightly when noticing that the doors were locked and the sign said closed. He spotted a waiter who signaled that they weren't open yet.

Hmmm. We'll just see about that.

The doors were open and they were inside in less than a minute.

"There is a god!" Schuldig sighed happily after the waiter had taken their order and moved away.

"Is this hurting him?" was Farf's question.

"All the butter and syrup that goes on pancakes has got to be good for hurting God somehow. You can practically hear your arteries clogging."

"Ah. Injury to the body is always a good thing for that," Farf said, settling back to wait for the food.

"What exactly did you order for me, Mastermind?" Nagi asked.

"Silver dollar pancakes. They're little ones. You cover them in butter and syrup and just kind of pop them in your mouth."

Nagi blanched a little. "You use your fingers?"

"Aren't you a delicate little assassin." Schuldig sneered.

Farf chuckled and Nagi glared.


Four hours later it finally registered to Crawford that the place was quiet. Too quiet. He looked around, presuming the other three had come back while he had been working in his office. No one else was in the house.

"Explains why I've been able to work uninterrupted for several hours," he said to himself. Then started to worry. "If they've killed anyone before noon and in public . . ."

He focused his gift and saw the building where they were. He sighed and pulled on his jacket, grabbing his car keys from the table by the front door.

Twenty minutes later Crawford stood outside of the establishment not knowing whether to laugh or find a place to dispose of his team's bodies. The sign on the door said "Closed For Private Party". He peered in through the glass doors and stood staring in mild horror for a few moments. Evidently they had been busy while he'd been engrossed in his work.
The place was in complete disarray. Every last table, chair and booth had been turned over and moved to side walls in two rows. What had to be pancake batter was stuck to every available surface, including everyone in the building. Jelly and syrup were dripping from the ceiling, helped along by Nagi, of all people. Who was hanging from one of the light fixtures and giggling. Schuldig had a pot turned over his head and Farf was wearing a necklace of spoons.
A member of the wait staff popped from behind one of the overturned tables to sprint the short distance to another. Schuldig stood up and lobbed what looked like a ball of butter at her. She ducked and the butter splattered against the wall. She laughed and dived for cover, barely rolling behind a booth before Farf threw a hand full of pancake batter at her. The batter was miraculously blocked by a chair that suddenly moved.

"Nagi! Stop helping her!" Farf said.

"But I want her to win," he said gleefully.

"She's good though. We should have picked her for our team," Schuldig said, dodging a fully cooked pancake that came flying at his head Frisbee style.

"Come and get meeeeee!" Nagi said, swinging his legs and nearly falling off the light fixture.

Okay. Time to put a stop to this, Crawford thought. He tried the door, found it locked. He shot the lock and walked in. He was immediately bombarded with pancake batter, syrup, jelly, and butter from all sides. One of the wait staff blew a whistle.

"Foul! Non player interruption!"

There was a chorus of "Awwww!" Crawford silenced everyone with a glare. Turning to Schuldig and Farf he said, "Get over here. Now!" through clenched teeth.

Nagi had managed to wrap his legs securely around the light and was hanging upside down almost face to face with Crawford. Still giggling gleefully.

"Crawford-san! Did you come to play with us?" he asked, swinging a little. "It wouldn't be too bad if you won me."

Crawford's gaze shot to Schuldig and Farf as they wound their way toward him through the maze of tables, chairs and booths. "What the hell did you do to him?"

"He's just had a little too much sugar," Farf explained.

"He's a teenager, Brad-chan. He's supposed to have fun sometime before he turns twenty," Schuldig said.

"Don't call me that."

It was at that point in time that the light came crashing down, Nagi and all. He immediately went "Ow!" then started rolling on the floor laughing.

The glasses flashed. "Get some trash bags. You are not sitting in my car like that without some kind of covering."

Farf grumbled a little about him being just as messy as they were, then wandered off to the back of the restaurant. Coming back a few minutes later with several trash bags.

"Go put them on the seats and try not to stick to anything in the process." He turned to a still giggling Nagi, shook his head, then turned back to Schuldig. "How much sugar did he have?"

"I think he polished off the entire bottle of maple syrup and half a jar of jelly," Schuldig replied.

"I've heard of needing to peel someone off the ceiling before but this is ridiculous. Go!" he said, pointing Schuldig out. Schu pouted but went. Crawford looked at Nagi, who's laughing had settled down to the occasional giggle and hiccup. He sighed and grabbed him by the wrist hauling him to his feet. "Come on, Nagi, let's get you home until the sugar wears off."

But Nagi was looking for all the world like a rebellious teenager. "I want to stay here," he said, sounding utterly mutinous.

By this point Crawford had lost all patience with the entire situation. He picked Nagi up and tossed him over one shoulder. Nagi started laughing again and waved to everyone in the restaurant.

"Bye, everyone! Looks like Crawford-san won me after all."

"Oh, God!" Crawford said while striding out the door. He got to the car and deposited Nagi in the back seat with Farf. He got in and glared at Schuldig. "Make sure you hold them until we leave and make sure they don't see the car you came in."

"Hey, I'm not that stupid."

"That is up for debate right now," Crawford snarled.

"You know, this never would have happened if you would have just had pancake mix in the house."