theblackcross | Friday 1.3

Current Mood: Barely awake
Current Location: Bed

Friday 1.3

//Nagi. Naaaagi. Naaaaaa-kun. Wake up. Brad wants coffee, and he asked if you would make it.//

Nagi groned and burried himself in the warmth around him. After a bit, as the pestering got to be too much, he groaned again and collected his mind enough to send back //He must not really want to wake up then... Can't you make it? You're obviously very awake...//

He was tired. He was groggy and he didn't care about the world outside right now because he was also warm and comfortable and it seemed he'd survived the night without nightmares. Miracle of miracles.

He guessed it had a lot to do with him being in Farf's room though, the older man protectively curled around them.

He tried to go to sleep once more but it was to no avail. //Damn it! If you want me to wake up than you have to give me some of your coffee...//

He cuddled into Farf a little more.

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Nagi shot Schuldig a heartfelt glare as soon as the man entered the kitchen. Most of the effectiveness was taken away by him absently petting the kitten in his hands.

//He was already cooking when I got here. You dragged me out of bed for nothing.// It was more like a statement than anything else, but in Nagi-terms it had quite a bit of heat.

"I would really like some, thank you," he told Crawford politely. Suddenly he really didn't mind the idea of being present for Crawfords interrogation over the steak.

He finally set Miles down on the floor and the cat quickly made his way to his food-bowls. Smart little thing, Nagi mused.

Brad fixed half a glare on Schuldig. He was decided to not make a huge deal of whatever this was with his visions. Certainly not to Nagi. Confirming that he was officially injured was not the way he had planned on starting breakfast.

"I am proud of Nagi's endless patience. How he doesn't permanently fix you to the ceiling on a daily basis still amazes me."

He nonchalantly turned back to his cooking, retreiving what he needed from the refrigerator as the pan warmed up.

"So..." Brad barely glanced in Schuldig's direction, breaking eggs into a bowl. "...care to tell me why my steak is in the trash can?"

Schuldig blinked, then settled a cocky smirk onto his lips.

"I needed something to ice my eye so it didn't swell shut." Schuldig answered casually. "I've heard steaks are good for that, so I gave it a try."

Even though his demeanor seemed calm, he was busily trying to calculate just how annoyed or possibly angry Brad was about the situation. He didn't seem too upset about it, but he also wasn't looking directly at Schuldig.

It was a minor infraction, so he wasn't worried about getting a matching set of black eyes. Brad would just be huffy with him, and probably make him go out and buy a new one. With his own money. Which would suck.

But any chance he got to ruffle Brad's feathers was worth whatever punishment he might get. Well... usually.

Brad stopped mid stroke, whisk standing idle in the bowl, with Schuldig's explanation. He couldn't help but picture Schuldig laying on the couch with the slab of - fairy expensive - meat on his eye.

Brad gave a snort of a chuckle and resumed his chore for half a stroke. That was too funny. But before he got much further his hand paused again as he began laughing softly to himself.

The redhead knew basic first aid as well as any of them. The choice of the steak over an ice pack was deliberate. Petty revenge most likely. But still entirely too amusing.

"I'll add it to your shopping list."

Brad resumed prepping the omlette with a few stray chuckles throw in. It was rare that Brad asked Schuldig to do the shopping. You could never be sure what he would bring home. He could bring home ten bags of groceries and have little that was actually edible in any of them. Of course, what Brad thought was edible differed quite a bit from Schuldig's definition.

"And when we're done breakfast you can take the trash out too."

Crawford was... Laughing. He was laughing at Schuldig using his precious stakes for an eye-cooler. There really had to be some truth to the idea that getting laid made one more agreeable.

He mentally chuckled at himself and made sure to shield that observation pretty well. There would be no end to the teasing and Schuldig's suggestions that he get himself laid as well if the telepath found out about that thought.

Not that Nagi preferred them fighting, of course.

He waited quietly for the coffee to brew, keeping his face neutral as he watched Miles scorch himself on his food and listened as Crawford and Schuldig exchanged verbal jabs.

Schuldig arched an eyebrow and grinned a bit. Brad Crawford was actually laughing. At something that didn't involve killing or torture. It was... strange. But definitely a good thing. Despite everything, Brad was in a good mood.

The grin quickly stretched into a very self-satisfied smirk. Damn he was good.

He shrugged at Brad's suggestion that he would be going shopping later. He really didn't mind doing the grocery shopping. It was everyone else that tended to suffer. But was it really his fault that he loved saurkraut so much?

With a yawn, Schuldig plopped down at the table, leaning his chin on his hand. "How much longer? I'm starving."

Brad turned to the coffee pot and poured two mugs, taking the liberty of perparing both cups the way they both preferred.

"As patient as always..." Brad smirked as he passed Schuldig his coffee.

He placed Nagi's coffee in front of him. "Will Farfarello be joining us?"

It was strange that the Irishman wasn't awake already. Then again, he had several near sleepless nights over the past few days.

Brad returned to his cooking, popping bread into the toaster before returning to his pan.

He had a good feeling about today.

Nagi shrugged. "I don't know. He was still asleep when I left him. He might be awake and join us at any time."

Nagi hoped Farf would stay asleep for a while longer, the man had stayed up many nights, even though he had badgered Nagi into going to sleep.

Schuldig yawned, mentally probing at Farfarello's mind, but not getting in too deep. Farfarello's dreamscape tended to be horrific at best, and he had no desire to get sucked into that.

"He's still sleeping. Though if he felt me poking around he might be up soon." Schuldig shrugged as he sipped his coffee, craning his neck to peer into the kitchen, trying to see how far along the food was.

Farfarello did wake up at the poking around in his head, grumbling a little as he got out of bed reluctantly. He'd been awake a few days straight pretty well, and had been enjoying getting caught up on his sleep. He sent some vaguely annoyed thoughts toward the telepath for waking him up.

He didn't bother getting changed, having fallen asleep in the clothes he'd worn the night before, and instead just walked out to the kitchen, yawning and stretching. "G'mornin'.."

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Friday 1.3

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