Title from Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird.

Yohji's clothes lived in the closet now. He had groceries in his refrigerator. He cooked. Not very well, but he did. He'd even bought curtains after catching his neighbor across the way watching him undress three nights in a row.

He had a gym membership and worked out nearly every day, plus yoga on on Tuesdays with Hiro and tai chi on Thursdays with Sven. Sven was sort of subtly hitting on him, he thought, and he wondered if he were giving out gay vibes now thanks to Schuldig.

He was getting nine hours of sleep a night. Smoking less. Drinking less.

He thought he might go insane from the boredom. Any second now.

"And the knee is connected to the elbow," Sven was saying, "so they lift in unison, all your weight on the right leg, yes, just so." He gave Yohji a smile disturbingly full of straight, white teeth.

When class was over, Sven caught his arm and started talking about the importance of daily practice. He seemed to be leading up to something, and Yohji didn't want to know what.

"Uh, yeah, sorry. Look, I have an appointment, so--"

An arm draped around his shoulders, and a hip nudged against his. He knew who it was before Schuldig opened his mouth.

"You shouldn't flirt with other people's boyfriends, asshole. That kind of thing gets you punched where I come from."

"You come from Texas?" Yohji muttered under his breath. Schuldig kicked his ankle and pulled him away, leaving Sven stuttering apologies and denials.

"You are such a jerk," Yohji said.

"I was making a point," Schuldig said loftily.

"No, you weren't. You were being a jerk. Because you enjoy it."

"Well, yeah. Okay. Point.

"What are you doing here? Don't say defending my honor."

"You don't have any honor to defend."

"I think you mean virtue, and you're not answering my question."

"Where are we going?"

"The locker room. I need to change."

"Then I'm here to have sex in the locker room."

"With me, or just whoever's around?"

"Well, not with Sven."

Yohji hesitated. He wanted to know if Sven really had been hitting on him, but asking was the same as encouraging Schuldig to pry into his head. And it wasn't like Schuldig wouldn't do that all on his own, but Yohji probably shouldn't act like he was condoning it.

"Yes, he was," Schuldig said.

"You're not supposed to answer questions I don't ask."

"That's a stupid rule. Anyway, you wanted to know and you don't really give a shit whether I invade his privacy or not. You just wish you did."

That was unfortunately true. "Didn't they teach you ethics at psychic assassin school?"

"Did you think about that sentence at all before it came out of your mouth?"

"...No. Not really."

The locker room was covered in tiny blue glass tiles that reflected bits of people in unsettling ways. Yohji usually tried not to look at it too hard, but Schuldig seemed fascinated. He passed his hand in front of the tiles, an inch away, and watched its image fragment.

"Matches your eyes," Yohji said. He'd meant it as another jibe--he wasn't sure how, but it had made sense in his head--but it was actually true.

"Nice of you to notice. Are we going to fuck or what?"

The few other men in the locker room looked away. One cleared his throat in a pointed manner.

"We could go somewhere else," Yohji suggested.

Schuldig grabbed his shoulder and pushed him up against a bank of stainless steel lockers. He smirked as he leaned in close, white teeth closing over Yohji's neck a second later. He bit and licked and muttered, "Your shorts are ridiculous. It's no wonder Sven was pining for you."

"My shorts are perfectly normal."

"Ahem," someone said. It was probably the throat-clearer.

Schuldig ignored him and slid a hand up the leg of Yohji's admittedly rather short shorts. He cupped Yohji's ass and squeezed.

"Excuse me," the same someone said.

Yohji was pretty sure he should care about this too. He was also pretty sure he didn't, especially with Schuldig's fingers pushing between his cheeks and Yohji's shorts rubbing over his cock as the fabric was pulled taut.

"You can't just--" A hand landed on his shoulder, and he shoved the throat-clearer away automatically.

"Schuldig," he muttered. Schuldig was busy sucking a mark into his neck. Yohji tugged his hair. "Make him fuck off."

Schuldig made an agreeable noise, and he must've done something because no one seemed to have anymore objections. Either that, or Yohji just didn't notice them. Schuldig's hand pushed down the front of his shorts and closed around his cock. His thumb rolled slowly around the head, and Yohji could feel his grin, teeth pressing into the join of Yohji's shoulder and neck.

"C'mon," Schuldig said. His hand slid up and down the length of Yohji's cock easily. "Sooner you get off, sooner you can get on your knees for me. I've been waiting for that."

"Right here?" Yohji said, but he almost liked the idea. Right here, a little reality in the middle of his fake-normal life.

"Right here." Schuldig's fingers slid into the damp heat between Yohji's cheeks. One fingertip pushed against his hole and inside. Schuldig wriggled it slowly back and forth, working it in a little further, making its stretch and invasion impossible to ignore. Yohji clutched at Schuldig's shoulders as he started to come.

When he opened his eyes again, the throat-clearer was watching him. The man had pop-eyes and a dark-flushed face. His expression suggested extremes of rage. He wasn't moving at all.

"Schuldig."

"What?"

"Did you make that poor guy watch us just now?"

"Eh. He really wanted to anyway. Deep down."

"Let him go."

"He'll just go tell on us."

"Let him go."

Schuldig sighed. "Fine."

The throat-clearer shook himself all over and bolted for the door, still wearing only a towel. Schuldig whooped with laughter, and Yohji clapped a hand over his own mouth to stifle himself. The guy hadn't deserved that, he really hadn't. Even though he had been a total asshole.

Schuldig smirked and punched his shoulder. "That was awesome."

Yohji mustered a glare, but it was a weak one. "You know they'll never let me back in this place, right?"

"You don't give a shit," Schuldig said, and he was right.