Schuldig's Apartment: Friday Night
Omi leaned back against the counter, still figeting, stuffing the box of pocky he'd been carting around---the last box, the only one he'd managed to rescue from Ken---into his jacket pocket. Schuldig's jacket, still. Wore it to meet Aya, wore it to visit Ken and Yohji, still wearing it now... could still turn up the collar and smell Schuldig.
He'd given up trying to stop himself from doing that.
He rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet---impatient, rude to the restaurant's employees but not caring too much at this particular moment. Five years... it'd taken almost that long just to hack into the satellites. Delicate operation, that, even just to find a good location for the back doors that no one would find. Tricky; too many good techs in the military these days.
Not good enough, though. Not enough to take even a fraction of joy away from that moment, just a few hours ago, when the mainframe finally booted up, all those monitors flashed to life. Spent the rest of the day just standing there, watching a fly buzzing around Tianamen Square. Watching ants crawling over the debris line where the Berlin Wall used to be.
Watching the entire fucking world. Masterpiece, that's what it was.
"Sir. Sir? Your food is ready."
Omi blinked at the bag appearing in his line of vision for a moment before remembering why he was leaning against a restaurant counter to begin with. "Thanks." Dug in his pockets for some yen. Gave the waiter a nice tip and left the kid bug-eyed staring after him.
Don't question it, little brother. Omi smiled to himself. It's a good day.
Schuldig's knees were getting cold again. (Too damn tall.) One hand were curled up his hair behind his head, the other on his chest under the water. Each breath rippled the water and made his vision waver. The water was burning his eyes agian and his lungs were starting to hurt from the constant repeat of deep breath--stop breathing for as long as possible.
But the voices were silent.
Only him and the murmuring voices of Aya-chan and Omi under the water with him now. No silly-stupid woman whimpering about her daughter, no Hyde-voice, no simpering idiots. Just him.
Pressed his heels into the water and pushed himself up so his head broke through the water, cough the breath he'd been holding and leaned his head back against the tub to look up at the ceiling.
(Broken, are you?) Shut up. (Love someone?) Shut up. (Ready to be a big boy?)
Schuldig sucked in a breath and went back under the water. Eyes burning again. Knees slipping out of the water, bent up and chilling in the air.
Too many things said. Too many things implied. Too much shit to think about right now. Wanted to drown it out somehow. Thought Omi would have been back by now, returning for their usual bicker and fuck thing. That would be a nice distraction.
(Distraction? But you love Farf, hugged Farf, gave him a sweet little kiss after you broke down and showed him your feelings.) Schuldig sat up, blew the air out and sneered at the water like it had failed him. It didn't work perfectly, not for long. Some of those voices were his. (Yes. Which ones though?) He let his legs slide down into the water, leaned his shoulders back so they were against the tile. Hooked his fingers in his wet hair and pulled it off his cheeks, let it hang away from his face and fall down to the water.
There he was.
"BATH!" he yelled through the open door of the bathroom, heard it echo in the empty main room. Felt Omi's mind react to the word and tipped his head to the
side to see him coming.
Omi left the bag of carry-out on the table, dropped the pocky next to it almost as an afterthought before shrugging out of the jacket. Really was going to leave it here next time... padded down the hallway in stocking feet like walking on air---
Fuck yes, I'm that damn proud of myself. Thought it and wondered if Schuldig heard. Might not even care, but... what the hell.
Good thing the door was open, probably; Omi left it that way, walked in and dropped right down in the tub, clothes and all, buried his fingers in Schuldig's wet hair and kissed him---
*What is he, now, your lover?*
Too good of a mood for that voice to bother him. Too damn sweet of an accomplishment and hell yes, he was going to enjoy a long, hot kiss to top it all off, water soaking his clothes or not.
(Distraction enough?) Schuldig pulled him closer, leaning up to meet the kiss, opening his mouth and accepting it. Kissing back. Moved his hands from the wet clothes on Omi's waist to the water-splashed shirt, one hand curling into a fist around the material, the other up to his face, his neck.
(Distraction enough?) Yes. Maybe. Could be with that smug-fucked feeling in Omi's head. Treating himself to a little congratulations. (Going to be his little congratulations?) Tonight. Had a week. (Pathetic.)
Stayed there, in that kiss until he could barely breath and then drew back enough to catch his breath. Smirked at Omi, more like a smile. "Congratulations," he murmured. (Now distract me.)
Congratulations? Oh, yes. Omi grinned, leaning his forehead against Schuldig's and combing his fingers through his hair, wet and sticky on his skin. "Brought you food." Felt the way Schuldig's hand was fisted in his shirt and wondered if he wanted to eat first or...
"What are you doing in here, anyway? The water's cold." Leaned back just enough to look down, trace his fingertips down Schuldig's bare chest. Curled his toes and felt his socks squelching between them. Gonna have to strip anyway, now, or track water all over the carpet...
(Drowning the voices.) "It started out hot," Schuldig said offhand. Let his grip on Omi's shirt slide, leaned back and looked at him, smiled again at the shamelessness of jumping full-clothes into a bathtub of water. (Too close to that mind.) Pulled his legs out from under Omi, bending them up and waiting for the other man to move and give him the space to stand up.
(Go eat some more. Spill more of your damn guts, huh?)
"Food?" he put in to help the process of moving along.
"Yeah, on the table." Omi pulled himself up to sit on the edge of the tub, making an attempt to wring out his pants for a minute before giving up and tugging them off---wore boxers for once, which apparently had been a good move. Not like he'd known this morning he'd be jumping into a bathtub.
Watched Schuldig, somewhere in the perusal of his body noted the bandage on his hand. Probably needed to be changed.
Schuldig stepped out of the tub, felt the water sliding down off his legs, picked up the towel and unfolded it. (Noted with a slight mental frown that they must have been fucking far too often is Omi's thought upon seeing him naked involved medical bandages.) Dried his hair first, and then his legs and draped the towel across Omi's head for him to use if he wanted to.
(Need to do laundry. Get someone to do that tomorrow. Bored housewife again?)
"And pocky?" he said. "You might be getting lucky tonight, Peaches." Could hear the grin in his voice. (Yeah, like you're not a sure thing and aren't you doing just a smashing job convincing yourself that this is a happy little domestic scene. Tell him about the girl who's mommy stabbed her.)
Omi blinked a few times before pulling the towel off his face. "I didn't even know you liked pocky. But if it works in my favor, then please. Have some." Smirked a little at that and squirreled that bit of information away. Hung his pants and socks and Schuldig's damp towel over the shower curtain bar.
Caught Schuldig's hand before he could get much further---more bandages in the other coat pocket, grabbed them earlier---and paused. Didn't quite frown, because he was in too good of a mood to frown. Just stopped for an instant. "It's been redressed." Like commenting on the weather, almost. No accusation to it.
*Hm. You get jealous so easy.*
(Jealous.) Jealous; it had been a long time since he'd felt that. For him. Hadn't liked it before, because it had felt like claws in his head when the bitch had felt it--violent and hateful--but now. Now, it was something else. Something happily wriggling in his belly.
(Too bad you're suppose to break his little heart in a nice way and send him back home to his bed so he call wallow around and feel like a slut and you can--) Shut up. (What about Farf? Forget these things so easily?)
"Farf did it," Schuldig said. (Did it after you finished puking your emotional little guts out. Say thank you to the kitten, give him a big hug and let him know that you're just so very glad he could--) "I went to talk to him about--" (About how you had to time loss Kudo because you tried to kill him and tell him about the little girl. He'd be so amused.) "--Us and to get his advice." On how to dispose of playtoys. Tell him that.)
Omi's internal monologues stuttered to a halt, right there. When did they get from 'this thing' to 'Us'? Sometime while he wasn't looking? Somewhere between the first night and the second when he started walking to Schudlig's apartment instead of his own without really thinking about it?
When did 'Us' come in?
Stupid word to dwell on, really. Didn't mean anything. "Farfarello?" Yeah, remember him? Insane guy, tried to kill Ken? Remember? Schwartz? Forgot that you're sleeping with the enemy? Idiot, thinking one itty bitty word means something. "Oh." Nothing to be jealous about, just his teammate. Like yours. "Wha'd he have to say?"
Let go of Schuldig's hand---he was squeezing it a little too tight anyway.
"He--"(Said that he wanted to sterilize you or kill you and the thought of you having sex made him ill.) "Wasn't surprised," Schuldig said. He flexed the hand Omi had been holding and let a sigh rise and fall out of chest. Chuckles a little and brushed his wet hair off his face again. "I wouldn't expect him to be taking you out to lunch again any time soon."
Teammate disapproval. Figured, seemed to be chronic this time of year. Omi managed a shrug and pushed past Schudlig out of the bathroom. Still food out in the kitchen. Still a power high to ride around on. Didn't need to stand here and worry about whether or not Farfarello liked him and whether or not that might affect how much Schuldig liked him. Or didn't like him. Whatever.
*Weren't you thinking he might be your lover, just a minute ago? Show some damn consistency.*
"Hope you like curry." Changed the subject, because there really wasn't anything else to be said, anyway.
Schuldig moved when he was pushed, to the kitchen, to the food. Felt a bit disappointed in Omi's resolution not to worry about it. Or his doubt. Couldn't even figure out if he wanted a fight, or if he wanted-- (Someone to fight for you?)
(Yes, lets sit down and wonder about what you want. What do you want?)
The hand on his back pushed in harder and he dug his heals into the carpet and stopped them, right there halfway to the kitchen. Didn't want this, didn't want the problem to be ignored, didn't want to eat the damn food, didn't want the doubt in Omi's head or his own and FUCK. Didn't want to (be in so deep.)
(Want to make him angry? Want him to hit you again? What for it to hurt?) No. (Want to tell him about the girl on the floor and her little thoughts and how it sounded just like him?) Not yet.
"Farf doesn't make my decisions," he said finally. (You stupid fuck. Maybe he should.)
Omi paused, drew back a little at that tone in Schuldig's voice. Already learning how to react to him, when to fight, when to resist, when to let it go. Didn't always get it right, still, but... "Of course he doesn't. If he did you wouldn't---I wouldn't be here, would I?" You wouldn't be referring to this thing as 'Us.' Would've dumped my whiny ass by now.
"I can't read your mind." Could feel him milling about in his head sometimes but never felt his thoughts, except that once---
*Goddammit, focus. This is important.*
"What's going on?"
Schuldig felt the grin cross his face. It was so ridiculously stupid. (Farf knows you better than this.) Farf wouldn't fight with him when he wanted, didn't get mad. He got frustrated but for all the other things he'd do--he wouldn't push. (Because he shouldn't have to, he told you that.) Maybe not. Maybe he shouldn't have to, maybe it was immature, maybe it was stupid and maybe it was a fucking hole he was digging himself into.
But he had a week. Dig the hole and fill it in.
"Got me figured out?" he said with a breath. "Tell me then, what do I want? Right now--what do I want?" Felt his head tip to one side, the drag of his damp hair across his shoulder.
*He's testing you. Don't fuck this up.*
That damn grin... starting to grow on him. Omi rubbed a hand through his hair in irritation and shook his head. "Why ask me when you don't even know? Either you want to fight or fuck, and since there's really not much difference between the two with---" Us. "---this thing, I can't see how it matters. You just want me to tell you one so you can say the other and prove me wrong, and how you know all about me and I know absolutely nothing about you."
Omi felt his eyebrows drawing together, that intense look he'd give the computer screen in the middle of a tricky dive---better hope you're right, kid. Better cross your fingers now because there's something serious he's not telling you...
(Likes the grin.) Schuldig chuckled. (Yeah, something you're not telling him. But we'll save that for later, give him a real show, huh?)
"Fighting's less fun if you do it on purpose," Schuldig countered. Licked his lips and turned around to walk away, toward the kitchen like they'd been going before. Called over his shoulder: "And you'll need your energy for the fucking. Get in here and eat."
That sudden shift, again. Getting used to those, too, but still took him a minute to process, stayed in the hall leaning against the wall before padding after Schuldig, dropping to sit at the table and unwrap the carry-out.
Might have been right. Maybe. Better not to presume that, though.
And Schuldig still hadn't told him a damn thing. Omi stabbed at his rice with the chopsticks a few times, mentally turning over possibilities. Might not know now, but Schuldig would probably tell him eventually, at the worst possible moment if ever. Gonna have to fix this---
*Oh, right. It would take an act of God or Parliament to fix this level of fucked-up relationship.*
"Tomorrow's Saturday." Another vague observational comment. Just to cover up that damn voice, alter the course of his trailing thoughts. Watched how the tips of Schuldig's hair brushed over his back.
Schuldig didn't sit, didn't want to sit at another table today and have another meaningful conversation about anything. (But, when you were at the table, weren't you talking about how inferior and awful your Peaches was?) He watched Omi eat, listened idly to his thoughts, because they were there and because he could turn them up loud enough to drown out the murmuring mass of the other voices. Nothing too interesting.
(Can you stay with this? Would you give up Farfarello for this?) That wasn't the question. (Wasn't it?) No. Farf would be his friend whether or not he stopped fucking Omi. (But what about that more...?) "I want you to fuck me tonight," he said. Sudden, not quite sharp. Wondered what Omi was going to think while the words were still coming out of his mouth. "But I'll need to put a shield on your head first." Considered that for half a second and added: "I'll do it the right way this time."
Omi's head jerked up when Schuldig started talking, suddenly, after that stretch of silence. Chopsticks still in his mouth, blinking.
That expression. Those words. Omi had to push his food aside so he didn't accidentally knock it over.
He was laughing too damn hard.
"You're like a kid bargaining for a piece of candy." Last week that probably would have pissed me off, but now it's practically endearing.
Still chuckling, Omi managed to catch his breath and pick up the box of curry again. Nudged the other one in Schudlig's direction. "Come on, I got this for you." You never have food and you're always hungry. "I was just thinking that, since I'm not working tomorrow you could teach me how to do that shield myself." So I have an excuse to stick around here all day.
He paused, looked up at Schuldig again. Eyes traced along a curl of his hair across his collarbone. "So?"
"Peaches," he said. Moved away from the counter he'd been leaning against. "We're going to have serious problems if your reactions to the prospect of fucking me continue on as they have been." Joke, or some similar attempt at humor. But he sat anyway.
(Wanted him to grab you maybe? It was also sudden before wasn't it. Almost unexpected with Crawford--never remembered it before that, with *her.* Only waking up after.) No. Maybe. Didn't matter because it wasn't what he got.
He got curry. Which wasn't that bad, it was food. He was hungry. (Always hungry, but never have food. Peaches knows you so well.) Even Kudo would have known he was always hungry and he'd only seen the man once.
"I can teach you to sheild but it'll take more than a day to get one that will hold up when you're distracted."
"So teach me on Sunday, too." Give me an excuse to stay all weekend.
*Yes, and pretend you're not waiting for Aya to call.*
Scraped the bottom of the box with the tips of his chopsticks, leaning back in the chair and peering over the cardboard to watch Schuldig eating, watched the way his eyelashes fluttered when he was looking down.
"You---" Paused. Embarassed, now, of all times? "You don't have to ask beforehand. Or---not ask. Whatever." Looked around the room instead and set the dregs aside.
"That would be a waste of your time," Schuldig said, leaning back in the chair. Arm hooking over the back and he pushed the mostly empty carton away. "Precious won't call you." (No, he won't. Because that would mean that you didn't want him enough and because then he wouldn't be able to blame you for coming back.) "Call him on Sunday." (That's selfishness. You want to play, so you have to get him busy.)
A sly smirk at the other words, the flood of pink embarrassment in Omi's head. "Seems easiest just to ask for what I want when I want it."
Omi paused midway in opening the box of pocky, staring at Schuldig in disbelief. "I can't call him, I don't have his... you have his phone number, don't you?" Smug bastard had probably had it this entire time. Should have thought to ask earlier. "You could have told me that, days ago. Saved us both a hell of a lot of time." Peeled open one of the inner wrappers and held the treat where it was just out of Schuldig's reach.
*He's just like that, isn't he? Never tells you anything. He'll say the word 'Us' but won't tell you a damn thing.*
Leaned back in the chair, watched Schuldig's pose. Sexy like that... pulled a stick out of the box and stuck it in his mouth. Guess he'll have to ask for some pocky, too.
Strawberry. Strong smell, melting in Omi's mouth like it was--and his thoughts. Very near bitterness in those thoughts. (Oh, but Peaches, if you hadn't stood there in front of him--it wouldn't have hurt as much.) But that other thought, and the look in his eyes.
Schuldig moved, slowly enough that he could be seen doing it, felt Omi watching him. Got to his feet and moved the short space between them, used his foot to turn the chair so it was far enough away from the table he could lean over it--one hand fisted on the chair back. Lifted one leg, put his knee on the chair between Omi's and dipped down low enough that he could almost taste the strawberry in the exhale of breath.
"Can I have some pocky?" he said--breathy, low, tone all but dripping with the level of his interest. Intent. Eyes dropping down from Omi's to the stick of pocky in his mouth, then back up.
Omi rolled the stick in his mouth, using his tongue to pull it in farther and watched Schuldig watching him, smirking a little. "What'll you give me for it?" Low murmur returned, awkward with the candy in his mouth. Tilted his head back enough that Schuldig could catch the end of the stick between his teeth.
Had to restrain himself from reaching up to touch. Had to be satisfied with keeping the box clear of Schuldig's grasp.
Schuldig smiled back at him. (Playful one you've got here. Pretty distraction.) Bent his head to the side and licked the line of Omi's mouth, just a little, the tip of his tongue against skin--to catch the taste. Murmured a nice little noise for it. (Play into the distraction.)
"How about..." Pulled up the memory of Omi with his back against the door and Schuldig on his knees. Stoked it with an echo of Omi pushing into him for the first time. Strong memory there in Omi's head, filled with his own incoherent *need.* There, Omi's indrawn breath, plucked the pocky out of his mouth and pulled back a little. Licked his prize (not much strawberry left, but lots of Omi) and sucked it into his mouth. Gave him a grin--flash of his teeth, around that pocky stick. "Good enough?"
Oh... *fuck*. Omi bit back a groan, repressed a shudder, clawed his way out of the memories Schuldig had wrapped around his consciousness just in time to see the last of the pocky stick disappear into his mouth. "That's... not fair..." Breath so fast already? So little control over this, so easy for Schuldig to catch him off-guard.
Wanted to kiss him so bad it was almost painful.
Shifted to hide the box behind his back, unintentionally rubbed against the knee between his legs and sucked in a breath through his teeth---way too damn easy---leaned his head back against the chair's backrest and smirked back at that grin. "You plan on telling me what's bothering you, or just keep stealing my pocky?"
Schuldig sucked on the candy. Considered the words, considered Omi's impulse to kiss him, considered the brush against his knee. (Considered telling Omi that you've had enough of this fucking cute bullshit and if wants to continue to sleep in your bed he better--)
(Do you want the distraction or not?) Yes. Drown the words, drown the emotions that weren't supposed to be there. They were products of Omi's head in his, too many layers of kitten thoughts on top of his. (Do you want the distraction or not?)
(What about Farf?)
Yes. Wanted the distraction.
"Fought with Farf. I'll be fine." He pulled the pocky stick out of his mouth and licked his lips, tipped his head to the side and glanced around Omi's waist. "If I stop stealing your pocky can we go fuck?"
Something echoed in the back of Omi's thoughts, something from a few nights ago, maybe. '*So* not buying that line of crap.' Didn't get very far before he half-heard the thunk of the box hitting the floor.
His hands preferred being in Schuldig's hair, anyway. Especially like this, mouths pressed together and gasping, urging, tugging him down at first then standing abruptly, almost pushing Schuldig flat on the tabletop.
*There are so many relationship counselors with so much concern for communication; they'd all have heart attacks the moment they saw the two of you.*
At least the sex is good.
(Wasn't that a lovely distraction?) *Her* voice again, swimming through his thoughts as he tipped his head back to feel the water on his face. (Nice cock your kitten has--better than Crawford?) Snideness in that voice, disdain--but his voice spoke up to add: (Better than Farf's might be?)
No. Not good to think about now. (Thought about it before, on your back, with *Peaches.*) That. The niggling thought rose its head, edge of his consciousness. What would it be like with Farf? (He's strong, he doesn't feel fatigue--and he's got stamina for days--) No. Nothing good to come of those thoughts. (Probably would be exceptionally good.) ... (Think of how well he knows you now.)
Schuldig turned the water off. Grabbed the towel and dried himself off--half distracted by those thoughts. (He knows his anatomy, too. Farf does.) Pushed them out of his head, couldn't make the decision based on Farf's hypothetical prowess. (Because he might not want you. You might just have lost that chance altogether.)
(Distractions never work.) Shut up Hyde.
He left the towel in the bathroom and went back to the bedroom to get his pants.
Omi rolled over when he heard Schuldig's footsteps, leaned up on his elbows and watched him walk back into the bedroom. Still naked. Looked good that way. "That shield you put on this time." Idle murmuring. Nothing all that important, just something to say. "How long will it last?"
Narrowed his eyes when Schuldig started milling around; grabbed his hand when he came within reach and tugged him down on the bed.
(See, he grabbed you--now you should be happy.) Schuldig let Omi tug him (right, you *let* him, not as if there's enough muscle left in your whole body to stop him) down onto the bed.
"That shield?" he said. Relaxed back agianst the pillows, stretched his legs (bit sore there?) and then had to wiggle down to get more comfortable in case Omi decided to snuggle. "Until I take it out." (Now maybe you can dig him out of your head. Wonder how different he'll look tomorrow when all his whimpering thoughts are out of your head.)
There---warm body, all relaxed and close enough to touch, curl up against, better not to get too comfortable, but...
*You're the one who said 'Every night,' don't fucking back out now.*
Omi leaned in, slid his hands over Schuldig's shoulders, caught a bit of hair and fingered it carefully. Didn't presume to kiss or do much more than that. "Must be annoying, listening to me think all the time." Not to mention the rest of the world along with it.
Liked the hand in his hair--couldn't figure out if he liked it because he did (couldn't remember if Crawford ever put his hands in Schuldig's hair--might have, probably to hold him still, maybe not) or because Omi did. Didn't feel like trying to dig the answer out at the moment, much nicer to lay still and feel warm with fingers petting his hair like that.
(Now that's definitely not you.)
He yawned a little, considered the words (tell him that its not annoying, tell him its damn funny, tell him how good it tastes when people *hurt*) and let his fingers run down Omi's skin. "Most of its background noise," he said.
Nice. Quiet and comfortable and he could just drown in it, sleep away the next ten years and wake up after whatever bloody death was haunting his future.
*Something isn't quite right with this, something's still up.*
"Background noise," Omi murmured, shifting a bit closer. Finding a patch of skin to rub his nose against for a moment. "And that's why you feel the need to put a shield on me?" He paused, drew back just enough to prop his head up, one elbow against a pillow and watch Schuldig, watch how the strands of his hair slipped through his fingers and the way the telepath's eyelids flickered when he was lying. "You don't like me very much, do you?"
"Note the use of the word *most,* peaches. Touching someone turns the volume up a lot higher." He yawned again. Didn't want to have another discussion about his damn feelings here. (Had to find a way to break up with him nicely, remember. Farf might need him later.) Looked up at Omi and then down at his chest, his collarbone, his neck. At the fading marks on his skin and the newer ones he'd left lower so Omi's shirt would hide them.
"I like you well enough," he said quietly. Sleepily. (Leave me alone, buy into that. Let me sleep.)
Omi slid back down, let himself tangle with the warm body next to him and didn't talk anymore. Didn't want to to begin with but that voice in the back of his head nagging at him; both of them should know better by now, know that Schuldig had no reason to tell him anything. Not a comrade or a teammate or someone he'd met undercover to weasel information out of. God knows why he took any kind of interest to begin with.
He yawned, curled tighter, let himself relax into sleep.
*Whatever he is, you're going to find out the hard way. Or never at all.*