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toscas_kissTitle: Unwelcome Visitors
Author: toscas_kiss
Characters: Crawford, Schuldig
Fandoms: Weiss Kreuz, Surprise
Rating: PG for swearing
Disclaimer: Somewhere in the multiverse they belong to me, just not in this particular dimension.
Notes: Written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
lady_ganesh, who requested "Crawford and Schuldig, 'the worst idea you've ever had'". Sorry it took so long but I got there eventually!
Unwelcome Visitors
Crawford would have liked to blame the cheese he'd eaten before going to bed but sadly, nightmares caused by excessive dairy-product consumption and nightmares shown by precognition were quite easily differentiated.
This had not been one of the former.
*Brad,* his name was a faint little whisper in his head. *Hey, you alive in there?*
He could feel the bed dip as Schuldig sat beside him, and an accompanying roil of his stomach. He squinted his eyes open. The lights were down dim, but still too bright and pain speared through his thudding head.
*Hold still, you're bleeding.*
His skin felt swollen and stretched drum-tight across the frame of his skull, and he could feel the tickling irritation of liquid on his upper lip. There was movement, then the sensation of cool relief against his face. He hadn't had a vision nosebleed since the first time he'd seen the team take down the Elders. The gravity of the situation was obviously not lost on Schuldig; his voice sounded worried, its touch light and tentative in his head.
*Let me?*
He usually hated allowing Schuldig too deep, but he eased down his inner barriers now. The cool, quicksilver sensation of Schuldig's mind flowed into his. He could sense the telepath patching and altering psi receptors, like a nurse cleaning and bandaging a wound with deft hands. When Schuldig had finished, the telepath's mental presence remained, lying quiescent inside Crawford's mind like a soothing pool of fresh water.
*What was it? What did you see?*
At least, Crawford thought, with the whole demon-summoning thing, Schuldig wasn't going to be freaked out at the thought of aliens.
The look on Schuldig's face wasn't disbelief – he did believe Crawford – but calling it incredulity wasn't a stretch.
"So the Americans opened up this giant alien bidet between worlds, went out, made arseholes of themselves to the überlords of not just one, but two galaxies, then planted a big fat 'intergalactic buffet' sign on Earth."
"I think it might be three, actually, but that's essentially correct."
Schuldig swore. In several languages.
"Wunderschön. Just when I think humans can't get any more fucking stupid."
He closed his eyes and concentrated again on the images Crawford had shown him.
*Scheiße, but they're ugly Arschkriecher. They're definitely coming here?*
"Yes. And if they arrive, we can kiss Earth goodbye."
Of this, Crawford was certain. The aliens would flood over the planet like a swarm of locusts; gorging themselves on Earth's wealth, then breeding like cockroaches and flooding out into the rest of the heavily populated Milky Way galaxy. Earth would descend into a new Dark Ages, and never rise again.
Nagi would fight at Takatori's side until the last bitter second, and then rather than fall to the enemy would blaze like a supernova, taking himself, Mamoru, eighteen humans, several dozen aliens and three blocks out with him.
Farfarello and his family, like billions of others, would end up as cocooned food.
Schuldig and he would fight and evade and survive - for as far as he could See - in a world stripped back to pre-industrial technology and medieval states. In their own way, they would be kings; but kings of a third-world fiefdom, living on the sufferance of their alien overlords.
Crawford had bowed down to the Elders, to Esset, to Rosenkreuz for years and years as their unwilling property. He would see this world burnt to ashes before he went into slavery again.
Looking at Schuldig's hard eyes and pissed off-expression, only a blind person would have needed telepathy to tell he felt the same.
*So, Oracle, what are we going to do?*
Crawford smiled, letting some of his plans unfold in his mind so Schuldig could read them.
"Oh no. No, absolut nicht. This is the worst idea you've ever had."
He was supposed to be looking over proposed promotions, but was actually halfway through the latest issue of Amazing Spider-Man when the door opened and two men entered his office unannounced. At a glance he could tell they weren't military (the redhead’s hair was a give-away on that one) but that they were trouble. With a capital T.
Both were in their mid-to-late twenties, European, athletic-looking, and wore expensive designer suits (so obviously not one of the alphabet agencies) that almost hid the fact they were carrying. This was a location where unauthorised intrusion got you free Bed & Board at sunny Guantanamo Bay for an indeterminate number of years. That detail was obviously not something that concerned them.
He reached for his under-desk gun, but before he touched it one of them spoke,
*No need for the gun. If we'd wanted you dead, you already would be.*
And the reason he didn't know which one of them had spoken would be because the voice was in his head. Dammit, he hated telepathy. At a guess however, the smirking redhead was the mind-reader. Dismissing the assurance, he instead rested a finger on his alarm.
"And how can I help you gentlemen?"
The tall brunet walked forward and seated himself, crossing his legs and smoothing out his suit jacket, arrogantly at ease. His companion slouched over the back of the chair and watched him with eyes a familiar shade of deep blue, in an unfamiliar shade of predatory.
“My name is Brad Crawford, General O'Neill. This is my associate Schuldig. And it isn't so much what you can do to help us, but what we can do to help Homeworld Command.”
--end--
End Notes: This is the prequel to my SchwarzGate drabbles, because I do actually believe this is the worst idea Crawford's ever had - at least by Schuldig's lights. ;-D
Wunderschön - Beautiful
Scheiße - Shit
Arschkriecher - Arsekissers
absolut nicht - absolutely not
Author: toscas_kiss
Characters: Crawford, Schuldig
Fandoms: Weiss Kreuz, Surprise
Rating: PG for swearing
Disclaimer: Somewhere in the multiverse they belong to me, just not in this particular dimension.
Notes: Written for
lady_ganesh, who requested "Crawford and Schuldig, 'the worst idea you've ever had'". Sorry it took so long but I got there eventually!Unwelcome Visitors
Crawford would have liked to blame the cheese he'd eaten before going to bed but sadly, nightmares caused by excessive dairy-product consumption and nightmares shown by precognition were quite easily differentiated.
This had not been one of the former.
*Brad,* his name was a faint little whisper in his head. *Hey, you alive in there?*
He could feel the bed dip as Schuldig sat beside him, and an accompanying roil of his stomach. He squinted his eyes open. The lights were down dim, but still too bright and pain speared through his thudding head.
*Hold still, you're bleeding.*
His skin felt swollen and stretched drum-tight across the frame of his skull, and he could feel the tickling irritation of liquid on his upper lip. There was movement, then the sensation of cool relief against his face. He hadn't had a vision nosebleed since the first time he'd seen the team take down the Elders. The gravity of the situation was obviously not lost on Schuldig; his voice sounded worried, its touch light and tentative in his head.
*Let me?*
He usually hated allowing Schuldig too deep, but he eased down his inner barriers now. The cool, quicksilver sensation of Schuldig's mind flowed into his. He could sense the telepath patching and altering psi receptors, like a nurse cleaning and bandaging a wound with deft hands. When Schuldig had finished, the telepath's mental presence remained, lying quiescent inside Crawford's mind like a soothing pool of fresh water.
*What was it? What did you see?*
At least, Crawford thought, with the whole demon-summoning thing, Schuldig wasn't going to be freaked out at the thought of aliens.
The look on Schuldig's face wasn't disbelief – he did believe Crawford – but calling it incredulity wasn't a stretch.
"So the Americans opened up this giant alien bidet between worlds, went out, made arseholes of themselves to the überlords of not just one, but two galaxies, then planted a big fat 'intergalactic buffet' sign on Earth."
"I think it might be three, actually, but that's essentially correct."
Schuldig swore. In several languages.
"Wunderschön. Just when I think humans can't get any more fucking stupid."
He closed his eyes and concentrated again on the images Crawford had shown him.
*Scheiße, but they're ugly Arschkriecher. They're definitely coming here?*
"Yes. And if they arrive, we can kiss Earth goodbye."
Of this, Crawford was certain. The aliens would flood over the planet like a swarm of locusts; gorging themselves on Earth's wealth, then breeding like cockroaches and flooding out into the rest of the heavily populated Milky Way galaxy. Earth would descend into a new Dark Ages, and never rise again.
Nagi would fight at Takatori's side until the last bitter second, and then rather than fall to the enemy would blaze like a supernova, taking himself, Mamoru, eighteen humans, several dozen aliens and three blocks out with him.
Farfarello and his family, like billions of others, would end up as cocooned food.
Schuldig and he would fight and evade and survive - for as far as he could See - in a world stripped back to pre-industrial technology and medieval states. In their own way, they would be kings; but kings of a third-world fiefdom, living on the sufferance of their alien overlords.
Crawford had bowed down to the Elders, to Esset, to Rosenkreuz for years and years as their unwilling property. He would see this world burnt to ashes before he went into slavery again.
Looking at Schuldig's hard eyes and pissed off-expression, only a blind person would have needed telepathy to tell he felt the same.
*So, Oracle, what are we going to do?*
Crawford smiled, letting some of his plans unfold in his mind so Schuldig could read them.
"Oh no. No, absolut nicht. This is the worst idea you've ever had."
He was supposed to be looking over proposed promotions, but was actually halfway through the latest issue of Amazing Spider-Man when the door opened and two men entered his office unannounced. At a glance he could tell they weren't military (the redhead’s hair was a give-away on that one) but that they were trouble. With a capital T.
Both were in their mid-to-late twenties, European, athletic-looking, and wore expensive designer suits (so obviously not one of the alphabet agencies) that almost hid the fact they were carrying. This was a location where unauthorised intrusion got you free Bed & Board at sunny Guantanamo Bay for an indeterminate number of years. That detail was obviously not something that concerned them.
He reached for his under-desk gun, but before he touched it one of them spoke,
*No need for the gun. If we'd wanted you dead, you already would be.*
And the reason he didn't know which one of them had spoken would be because the voice was in his head. Dammit, he hated telepathy. At a guess however, the smirking redhead was the mind-reader. Dismissing the assurance, he instead rested a finger on his alarm.
"And how can I help you gentlemen?"
The tall brunet walked forward and seated himself, crossing his legs and smoothing out his suit jacket, arrogantly at ease. His companion slouched over the back of the chair and watched him with eyes a familiar shade of deep blue, in an unfamiliar shade of predatory.
“My name is Brad Crawford, General O'Neill. This is my associate Schuldig. And it isn't so much what you can do to help us, but what we can do to help Homeworld Command.”
--end--
End Notes: This is the prequel to my SchwarzGate drabbles, because I do actually believe this is the worst idea Crawford's ever had - at least by Schuldig's lights. ;-D
Wunderschön - Beautiful
Scheiße - Shit
Arschkriecher - Arsekissers
absolut nicht - absolutely not
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