Fic: Good Intentions (Nagi/Mamoru, PG-13)
Author: daegaer
Recipient: lady_ganesh
Title: Good Intentions
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairing(s): Nagi/Mamoru
Summary: Mamoru's losing himself. Nagi can't decide if he wants to save him or let him drown.
Warnings/Content: N/A
Word Count: 2,187
Author's Notes: Set post Glühen.
"Why can't this generation of Weiß be more like you?" Mamoru grumbled, paging down through the report. He rested his head in his hands and glared at the screen, looking like a schoolboy doing complicated homework at his father's desk.
"Telekinetic? Rosenkreuz-trained?" Nagi said, amused.
"Efficient. Not so fond of this police-show nonsense. The female then proceeded to proceed down the street - Honestly."
"That sentence does seem to warrant execution," Nagi said.
Mamoru looked at him wordlessly, then shut the laptop. "Useless," he said. "This lot are just useless. I should dump their bodies and start with a fresh group." He let out a long sigh and scrubbed the heel of his hand across his eyes. "I need a drink. You?"
"Sure."
Mamoru swung his chair around and rummaged a bottle out from the cupboard behind him. When he drank with his company subordinates he made a point of drinking Japanese brands, but in private he liked the Scotch Nagi had bought him once for New Year, and had made sure he had a supply ever since. It was always good to know a gift had been appreciated, Nagi thought, even if neither of them had a hope of pronouncing the name. One of these days he might even tell Mamoru that it was Crawford's favourite brand, and that he was pretty sure Crawford hadn't been able to pronounce it either.
Nagi held his glass and watched Mamoru drown whatever sorrows he had tonight. The same as usual, probably. Too much work in both his day and night capacities, too much killing, and just enough left of a conscience for any of it to be easy. That note of frustration earlier though, that was - not new, exactly, but something creeping in, more and more. The last six months had seen Mamoru become more short tempered, more willing to send Weiß on missions the police could have taken on, less sympathetic to their injuries. He was harder these days, to go with the sadness he thought he hid from everyone. It would only take a little push, Nagi thought, and Mamoru might be as much of a bastard as anyone he'd known growing up. That was a surprisingly attractive thought, and he hid his expression behind a sip of whisky, lost in images of Mamoru as cold and authoritative as the most ridiculously self-assured Eszett operative. There would be no more badly-hidden tearful self-recriminations, Mamoru would get more work done, would sleep better -
"What's so funny?"
Nagi considered saying I'm talking myself into helping you to be a heartless bastard, but settled for, "Just thinking where to dump Weiß's bodies."
Mamoru huffed a tired little laugh. "Oh, good. I'm not paying you overtime, though. Damn, I'm exhausted. I'm going to bed." He levered himself out of the chair and came, only a little carefully, around the desk. For a man who'd had four glasses to Nagi's one, he was steady enough on his feet, Nagi thought.
Nagi put out a hand and rested it on the back of Mamoru's, looking up quizzically. Was it or wasn't it one of those nights, he wondered as he stroked Mamoru's hand. He hoped it was, the image of Mamoru-as-Eszett-operative still fresh and enticing in his mind.
Mamoru turned his hand and squeezed his briefly, smiling apologetically. "I'm really tired, sorry. Do you mind? Sorry."
Nagi shook his head and patted his arm. "Get some rest." He did mind, he thought, a little sourly. Mamoru rarely initiated anything, and half the time Nagi did he was turned down. He didn't know if it was because he was Schwarz, a TK or just because he was the hired help. Any of the three hang-ups could be helped by Mamoru being a bit less holier-than-thou - he really should encourage him to get over himself.
Mamoru turned at the door and came back, his steps not weaving too much, and quickly bent to kiss Nagi's lips - a soft, somewhat off-centre kiss that betrayed his drunkenness only in the way he leant too far forward so Nagi had so support him telekinetically, though he doubted Mamoru even realised.
"I really am sorry," Mamoru said, breathing whisky fumes into his face at close quarters. He put a hand on Nagi's cheek, gentle and caressing. "I'll see you in the morning." He shoved himself up again and was gone.
Nagi sat there, caught by surprise, his fingers lifted to touch his lips as if he could feel the kiss, and wishing Mamoru would return to do it again. That kind of gesture wasn't the sort of thing that the prematurely hardened head of a corporation or of Kritiker would do, he thought. It was far more the gesture of a silly young assistant in a flower shop. Damn it, Naoe, he thought, you have always had the worst taste in lovers.
He poured himself the last shot from the bottle and downed it.
* * *
"Drug dealers? Why send Weiß to deal with people like that?" Nagi said. He flexed his hand, looking at it ruminatively. There had been an assassination attempt on Mamoru that morning, though it would never be reported in the papers. Nagi rolled his wrist and grimaced; the Rosenkreuz instructors had always said it was a weakness to focus concentration by gesturing towards one's target and they were right. They were especially right about fools who made overly dramatic gestures and hit their own hands against walls. It was not, he decided, something to admit to anyone.
"Are the police really going to fix the problem? The big dealers can afford lawyers who can easily get them off and the minor ones get made examples of - what does that solve? Everyone should be treated equally, with no mercy," Mamoru said. "It's exactly the kind of thing Weiß should be doing."
"Including foreign college students who pass round a few joints at a party?" Nagi said, unsure why he was arguing the point.
Mamoru smiled at him like he was being very silly. "Let's hope other foreign students learn to behave themselves!" he said cheerfully. "This is Tokyo, Nagi, not California. Oh, don't look at me like that, I'm all for diversity, I don't want them all dead."
"Just the dope-smoking hippies," Nagi said dryly.
"Well, if Immigration won't do its job -" Mamoru said teasingly.
"Didn't you used to have liberal political views?"
"They may sell flowers, but they don't run either Takatori Enterprises or Kritiker very well. I get more done now!"
Nagi shook his head in fond amusement. Given whose picture hung on the walls of all the rooms in Rosenkreuz he had no high ground to stand on for a political argument, he thought, and no interest in arguing anyway. He still couldn't quite believe that Mamoru was joking so easily with him about killing - it was nice. It was like relaxing with Schwarz, when they'd killed everyone they had to and could now just sit back with a few beers and laugh at Farfarello's terrible impersonations of the victims' pleas for mercy. I can't ever say that to him, Nagi thought.
"As long as you don't get into any trouble about this, you know the foreign press gets touchy about their citizens getting murdered abroad."
"Pfft," Mamoru said. "Why on earth would anyone thing I had anything to do with it?"
Two days later the Tokyo Chief of Police came to see Mamoru, his face set in an expression of ferociously polite rage.
* * *
Nagi watched Mamoru’s hand clench into fists beneath the desk, tighter and tighter throughout the meeting, though his posture remained calm and his face, what Nagi could see of it, was still open and friendly.
"I certainly appreciate your concerns," Mamoru said, bowing in his seat to the Chief of Police as the man finally stopped talking about the hazards of interfering in police business. "I am very humbled that you would think to discuss them with me; I know so little of the law. I am just a businessman, still learning to fill the gap my father left."
"In politics as well as in business," the Chief of Police said. "I’m sure the Takatori name will be heard in the highest halls of government once more. It's because you are a young man of such promise that I felt I should come to speak to you personally. My predecessor, your uncle - he was a fine officer of the law, and I hope that I follow his example in that. I would hope that you have other example to follow in your life, however, more suitable for your career."
The officer behind him had no expression at all on his face, his eyes fixed firmly on a spot on the all above Mamoru’s head. Nagi supposed he was very loyal and discreet to be asked to attend his superior. It was insulting of course, an apparent aide who was so clearly a bodyguard. Nagi wondered if he should wait for Mamoru’s order before snapping the man’s neck or if he should just do it then and there, to see the expression on the Chief of Police’s face. Better not, he thought. He’d have to do the other one too, and it would be politically messy.
"It is very encouraging of you to be so kind about my prospects and kind of you to remember my late uncle," Mamoru murmured, the very picture of youthful meekness in what was visible above the desk. "I’ll give your advice every consideration, you have my assurance."
"Well, then," the Chief of Police said, rising, "I must get back to my work, as I’m sure you must get back to yours."
"Yes, thank you so much for coming to speak with me," Mamoru said, standing to give a deep bow of respect. He remained standing until the visitors were gone, then slumped back down, scowling. "Bastard! I shouldn't follow Shuiichi's example? Trouble with our valued overseas friends that he’s sure are not be laid at nearby doors? I should just have told you to kill him."
Nagi kept his lips thin and straight, though the urge to smirk was strong. "I did suggest that having Weiß target foreign students was probably not the best idea."
Mamoru waved a hand wearily, revealing where his nails had dug into his palms. "It was just one American. Who’d miss just one? There are so many in Tokyo these days."
He sounded so astonished that anyone could care about just one little death that Nagi found himself grinning. It was good to see that he could bounce back so quickly - just a few months previously such a visit would have left Mamoru humiliated and full of good intentions to mend his ways that would have come to nothing, leaving him more depressed, more filled with self-loathing. Frankly, Nagi thought, being blasé about it was better.
"What?" Mamoru said suspiciously.
"Nothing."
It’s like being back home with Schwarz really wasn’t the right thing to say. Not yet.
"Huh," Mamoru said, more a huff of breath than anything that had any meaning, then he pulled himself straighter in the chair. "Right. I’d better get on with things. Companies to take over, death warrants to sign, police chiefs to piss off. Why don’t you take some time off, have something to eat? I’ll let you know if tonight’s mission needs more than Weiß."
"OK," Nagi said, and on impulse bent over him to take his face between his hands and kiss him hard. "Let's get everyone killed by a reasonable hour, all right? It'd be nice to have some private time for ourselves." Mamoru's hand came up to the back of his head and held him there firmly for another kiss. If it took being chastised by the police to get Mamoru in the mood, Nagi thought, he'd encourage the termination of as many foreigners as possible.
"All in their graves by midnight, I promise," Mamoru said, his voice as cheerful as if he were discussing their dinner plans.
I should save him, Nagi thought, all the times Mamoru had sworn never to be like his father rising in his memory. It's my job to save him. It was all very well to imagine how easy life would be if Mamoru were more like him, but it was Mamoru he'd first realised he'd liked, with his inconvenient flashes of conscience and his childish belief that he could make the world be fair. That was a person worth saving, he thought, flattening down Mamoru's hair a little with his hand. "Almost a respectable businessman. Do you want some dinner sent in?"
"Thanks," Mamoru smiled. "I won't be late. Don't fall asleep." His grin was cheeky and full of the kind of promises he rarely made aloud.
Nagi nodded. He could always worry about Mamoru in the morning. Or the next day. He wasn't anything near as bad as Reiji yet. There was still time to turn him back from the road he was on.
Or at least on to a faster route to perdition.
Recipient: lady_ganesh
Title: Good Intentions
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairing(s): Nagi/Mamoru
Summary: Mamoru's losing himself. Nagi can't decide if he wants to save him or let him drown.
Warnings/Content: N/A
Word Count: 2,187
Author's Notes: Set post Glühen.
"Why can't this generation of Weiß be more like you?" Mamoru grumbled, paging down through the report. He rested his head in his hands and glared at the screen, looking like a schoolboy doing complicated homework at his father's desk.
"Telekinetic? Rosenkreuz-trained?" Nagi said, amused.
"Efficient. Not so fond of this police-show nonsense. The female then proceeded to proceed down the street - Honestly."
"That sentence does seem to warrant execution," Nagi said.
Mamoru looked at him wordlessly, then shut the laptop. "Useless," he said. "This lot are just useless. I should dump their bodies and start with a fresh group." He let out a long sigh and scrubbed the heel of his hand across his eyes. "I need a drink. You?"
"Sure."
Mamoru swung his chair around and rummaged a bottle out from the cupboard behind him. When he drank with his company subordinates he made a point of drinking Japanese brands, but in private he liked the Scotch Nagi had bought him once for New Year, and had made sure he had a supply ever since. It was always good to know a gift had been appreciated, Nagi thought, even if neither of them had a hope of pronouncing the name. One of these days he might even tell Mamoru that it was Crawford's favourite brand, and that he was pretty sure Crawford hadn't been able to pronounce it either.
Nagi held his glass and watched Mamoru drown whatever sorrows he had tonight. The same as usual, probably. Too much work in both his day and night capacities, too much killing, and just enough left of a conscience for any of it to be easy. That note of frustration earlier though, that was - not new, exactly, but something creeping in, more and more. The last six months had seen Mamoru become more short tempered, more willing to send Weiß on missions the police could have taken on, less sympathetic to their injuries. He was harder these days, to go with the sadness he thought he hid from everyone. It would only take a little push, Nagi thought, and Mamoru might be as much of a bastard as anyone he'd known growing up. That was a surprisingly attractive thought, and he hid his expression behind a sip of whisky, lost in images of Mamoru as cold and authoritative as the most ridiculously self-assured Eszett operative. There would be no more badly-hidden tearful self-recriminations, Mamoru would get more work done, would sleep better -
"What's so funny?"
Nagi considered saying I'm talking myself into helping you to be a heartless bastard, but settled for, "Just thinking where to dump Weiß's bodies."
Mamoru huffed a tired little laugh. "Oh, good. I'm not paying you overtime, though. Damn, I'm exhausted. I'm going to bed." He levered himself out of the chair and came, only a little carefully, around the desk. For a man who'd had four glasses to Nagi's one, he was steady enough on his feet, Nagi thought.
Nagi put out a hand and rested it on the back of Mamoru's, looking up quizzically. Was it or wasn't it one of those nights, he wondered as he stroked Mamoru's hand. He hoped it was, the image of Mamoru-as-Eszett-operative still fresh and enticing in his mind.
Mamoru turned his hand and squeezed his briefly, smiling apologetically. "I'm really tired, sorry. Do you mind? Sorry."
Nagi shook his head and patted his arm. "Get some rest." He did mind, he thought, a little sourly. Mamoru rarely initiated anything, and half the time Nagi did he was turned down. He didn't know if it was because he was Schwarz, a TK or just because he was the hired help. Any of the three hang-ups could be helped by Mamoru being a bit less holier-than-thou - he really should encourage him to get over himself.
Mamoru turned at the door and came back, his steps not weaving too much, and quickly bent to kiss Nagi's lips - a soft, somewhat off-centre kiss that betrayed his drunkenness only in the way he leant too far forward so Nagi had so support him telekinetically, though he doubted Mamoru even realised.
"I really am sorry," Mamoru said, breathing whisky fumes into his face at close quarters. He put a hand on Nagi's cheek, gentle and caressing. "I'll see you in the morning." He shoved himself up again and was gone.
Nagi sat there, caught by surprise, his fingers lifted to touch his lips as if he could feel the kiss, and wishing Mamoru would return to do it again. That kind of gesture wasn't the sort of thing that the prematurely hardened head of a corporation or of Kritiker would do, he thought. It was far more the gesture of a silly young assistant in a flower shop. Damn it, Naoe, he thought, you have always had the worst taste in lovers.
He poured himself the last shot from the bottle and downed it.
* * *
"Drug dealers? Why send Weiß to deal with people like that?" Nagi said. He flexed his hand, looking at it ruminatively. There had been an assassination attempt on Mamoru that morning, though it would never be reported in the papers. Nagi rolled his wrist and grimaced; the Rosenkreuz instructors had always said it was a weakness to focus concentration by gesturing towards one's target and they were right. They were especially right about fools who made overly dramatic gestures and hit their own hands against walls. It was not, he decided, something to admit to anyone.
"Are the police really going to fix the problem? The big dealers can afford lawyers who can easily get them off and the minor ones get made examples of - what does that solve? Everyone should be treated equally, with no mercy," Mamoru said. "It's exactly the kind of thing Weiß should be doing."
"Including foreign college students who pass round a few joints at a party?" Nagi said, unsure why he was arguing the point.
Mamoru smiled at him like he was being very silly. "Let's hope other foreign students learn to behave themselves!" he said cheerfully. "This is Tokyo, Nagi, not California. Oh, don't look at me like that, I'm all for diversity, I don't want them all dead."
"Just the dope-smoking hippies," Nagi said dryly.
"Well, if Immigration won't do its job -" Mamoru said teasingly.
"Didn't you used to have liberal political views?"
"They may sell flowers, but they don't run either Takatori Enterprises or Kritiker very well. I get more done now!"
Nagi shook his head in fond amusement. Given whose picture hung on the walls of all the rooms in Rosenkreuz he had no high ground to stand on for a political argument, he thought, and no interest in arguing anyway. He still couldn't quite believe that Mamoru was joking so easily with him about killing - it was nice. It was like relaxing with Schwarz, when they'd killed everyone they had to and could now just sit back with a few beers and laugh at Farfarello's terrible impersonations of the victims' pleas for mercy. I can't ever say that to him, Nagi thought.
"As long as you don't get into any trouble about this, you know the foreign press gets touchy about their citizens getting murdered abroad."
"Pfft," Mamoru said. "Why on earth would anyone thing I had anything to do with it?"
Two days later the Tokyo Chief of Police came to see Mamoru, his face set in an expression of ferociously polite rage.
* * *
Nagi watched Mamoru’s hand clench into fists beneath the desk, tighter and tighter throughout the meeting, though his posture remained calm and his face, what Nagi could see of it, was still open and friendly.
"I certainly appreciate your concerns," Mamoru said, bowing in his seat to the Chief of Police as the man finally stopped talking about the hazards of interfering in police business. "I am very humbled that you would think to discuss them with me; I know so little of the law. I am just a businessman, still learning to fill the gap my father left."
"In politics as well as in business," the Chief of Police said. "I’m sure the Takatori name will be heard in the highest halls of government once more. It's because you are a young man of such promise that I felt I should come to speak to you personally. My predecessor, your uncle - he was a fine officer of the law, and I hope that I follow his example in that. I would hope that you have other example to follow in your life, however, more suitable for your career."
The officer behind him had no expression at all on his face, his eyes fixed firmly on a spot on the all above Mamoru’s head. Nagi supposed he was very loyal and discreet to be asked to attend his superior. It was insulting of course, an apparent aide who was so clearly a bodyguard. Nagi wondered if he should wait for Mamoru’s order before snapping the man’s neck or if he should just do it then and there, to see the expression on the Chief of Police’s face. Better not, he thought. He’d have to do the other one too, and it would be politically messy.
"It is very encouraging of you to be so kind about my prospects and kind of you to remember my late uncle," Mamoru murmured, the very picture of youthful meekness in what was visible above the desk. "I’ll give your advice every consideration, you have my assurance."
"Well, then," the Chief of Police said, rising, "I must get back to my work, as I’m sure you must get back to yours."
"Yes, thank you so much for coming to speak with me," Mamoru said, standing to give a deep bow of respect. He remained standing until the visitors were gone, then slumped back down, scowling. "Bastard! I shouldn't follow Shuiichi's example? Trouble with our valued overseas friends that he’s sure are not be laid at nearby doors? I should just have told you to kill him."
Nagi kept his lips thin and straight, though the urge to smirk was strong. "I did suggest that having Weiß target foreign students was probably not the best idea."
Mamoru waved a hand wearily, revealing where his nails had dug into his palms. "It was just one American. Who’d miss just one? There are so many in Tokyo these days."
He sounded so astonished that anyone could care about just one little death that Nagi found himself grinning. It was good to see that he could bounce back so quickly - just a few months previously such a visit would have left Mamoru humiliated and full of good intentions to mend his ways that would have come to nothing, leaving him more depressed, more filled with self-loathing. Frankly, Nagi thought, being blasé about it was better.
"What?" Mamoru said suspiciously.
"Nothing."
It’s like being back home with Schwarz really wasn’t the right thing to say. Not yet.
"Huh," Mamoru said, more a huff of breath than anything that had any meaning, then he pulled himself straighter in the chair. "Right. I’d better get on with things. Companies to take over, death warrants to sign, police chiefs to piss off. Why don’t you take some time off, have something to eat? I’ll let you know if tonight’s mission needs more than Weiß."
"OK," Nagi said, and on impulse bent over him to take his face between his hands and kiss him hard. "Let's get everyone killed by a reasonable hour, all right? It'd be nice to have some private time for ourselves." Mamoru's hand came up to the back of his head and held him there firmly for another kiss. If it took being chastised by the police to get Mamoru in the mood, Nagi thought, he'd encourage the termination of as many foreigners as possible.
"All in their graves by midnight, I promise," Mamoru said, his voice as cheerful as if he were discussing their dinner plans.
I should save him, Nagi thought, all the times Mamoru had sworn never to be like his father rising in his memory. It's my job to save him. It was all very well to imagine how easy life would be if Mamoru were more like him, but it was Mamoru he'd first realised he'd liked, with his inconvenient flashes of conscience and his childish belief that he could make the world be fair. That was a person worth saving, he thought, flattening down Mamoru's hair a little with his hand. "Almost a respectable businessman. Do you want some dinner sent in?"
"Thanks," Mamoru smiled. "I won't be late. Don't fall asleep." His grin was cheeky and full of the kind of promises he rarely made aloud.
Nagi nodded. He could always worry about Mamoru in the morning. Or the next day. He wasn't anything near as bad as Reiji yet. There was still time to turn him back from the road he was on.
Or at least on to a faster route to perdition.