Fai, by nature, was a curious person.  He loved to know things.  He loved to learn things.  Not in the way Syaoran did, though.  Fai didn’t so much want to know about things that a book might tell you, about things that the earth or a building might show, but rather he liked to know about people.  What they did, what they said, maybe even what they thought.  He liked to talk, but he also liked to listen.  And people were always more willing to speak to someone who practically oozed easy friendship and light, meaningless conversation.  And then he could learn about them, and know them, without them even realizing it.

  Kurogane was different.  His replies were sporadic and minimal at best.  Non-existent, or consisting of nothing more than an angry scowl at worst.  More so than ever of late.  Fai didn’t mind so much, as even the retorts and the growls told him things, things that helped him get to know mysterious, dark, stranger-Kurogane a bit better.  But there was only so much an insult could tell you.  And so, with that in mind, and in his worthy pursuit of knowledge, Fai found himself that evening leaning tentatively against the door to Kurogane’s room.  Listening.

  It all started three days ago with their arrival in this world of bright lights and dark alleys, and with an argument which had amused Fai no end.  Kurogane clearly hadn’t felt the same way and now refused to even acknowledge the other man’s existence, let alone speak to him, so Fai was reduced to listening.  Always just listening; to when Kurogane spoke to Syaoran, imparting some new deep and meaningful advice to the boy in his own rough way, or shouted at Mokona for climbing into his clothes again, or just mumbled to himself, cursing everything to hell and back.  But mostly cursing Fai.  Not that Fai minded so much, because he wanted to know, and he found he liked listening to Kurogane anyway.  That deep, dark, angry tone, tinged with the honey-sweet taste of someone who really cares, so different from anything Fai has ever heard before.  His brutal honesty too, sharp and merciless.  Fai loved it all.  Reveled in it all.  Kurogane’s fiery passion was something he didn’t think he could ever get enough of.  So he teased and he prodded and he pushed, and sometimes he wondered if Kurogane knew what Fai was doing, but mostly he just didn’t care.  He just wanted to know Kurogane.  But perhaps this time he had bitten off a little more than he could chew.

  At first, it had all seemed normal enough.  Kurogane was mumbling something about his dislike for the clothes of this world, constricting and uncomfortable in the heated climate.  The world was polluted, dying, but not altogether devoid of hope.  Rather, it seemed to dance naked along a knife-edge, either unaware or unconcerned about its imminent fall into darkness.  It was the end of the world.  And the world was celebrating.  Fai loved it.  Bleakness and hope, fear and audacity, piety and irreverence, all in one joyous, sorrowful place and people.  It made him feel almost dizzy with excitement. 

  Anyway, Kurogane mumbling profanities: everything normal.  There followed the distinctive swish of de-robing, the brush of bristle against teeth and the sound of water falling against porcelain. Kurogane: the perfectly proper Ninja in every way. Even keeping his teeth clean. Fai couldn’t help but giggle noiselessly at the thought of Kurogane with a mouthful of toothpaste.  He would like to see that sometime, he decided, and that made him wonder.

  Had Kurogane left the door unlocked? Would he notice if he opened the door just an inch to take a peek?  He was a Ninja, true, but Fai was Fai and Kurogane had yet to notice him standing, listening, smirking and thinking oh-so-many wrong thoughts just on the other side of the bedroom door.  Not that Fai thought Kurogane was even mildly capable of mind-reading.  Just that Fai knew his face could be full of erotic promise and teasing lust when he wanted it to be.  And he always wanted it to be when he was around Kurogane.

  So then, the door.  But Kurogane was gurgling now.  Damn.  That meant it would all be over soon, and Fai would have to slink back to his uncomfortable bed, away from Kurogane, and back to his own thoughts.  Alone.

  Fai was about to pull away from the door when he heard something unusual.  A gasp.  Or something.  He thought maybe Kurogane had hurt himself, and he should barge in, proclaiming how he had heard Kurogane’s terrible plight from the corridor and had heroically come to help.  (And that would, after all, constituted a reasonable pretext for Fai to harass Kurogane further that night.  Even if the man wasn’t talking to him.)  But something in the way Kurogane’s voice curled into something Fai could only describe as a moan stopped him.  He listened. 

  Flesh on flesh.  Rubbing?  Fast, pitched breathing.  A loud gulp and… oh… so that’s what Kuro-rin was up to.  Well that was unexpected.  And Fai could not help but press his ear closer to the door, and hold onto the handle in an effort to still himself.  His face felt hot, and he knew he shouldn’t be listening, and he knew it would be bad if Sakura or Syaoran found him like this, but he just couldn’t seem to make himself leave. 

  “Fai the Stalker”, they would have to rename him, Fai thought, and oh Kuro-rin was going at it full tilt now.  No denying it, no mistaking it and Fai could not help but imagine Kurogane at that moment, lying on the bed, his face scrunched up into a grimace of pure determination, hands on his own flesh, beating away with the dedication and concentration only a master swordsman could process.  There was something more amusing rather than erotic about the scene unfolding in Fai’s mind, and Fai wondered if he was being a little too hard on Kurogane. Surely he was capable of tenderness, and it wasn’t like the sounds coming from the other side of the room sounded pained or hurried. Rather, Kurogane sounded decidedly relaxed. The old springs of the bed groaned gently under his solid body, and Fai took pleasure in imagining that; stretched out and naked, all muscle and... muscle and... and Fai’s mind seemed to have stopped at that thought.  

  It was as though every sound from Kurogane’s room were penetrating his whole body now.  Fai longed for touch, of his own, of Kurogane’s; he didn’t really care.  But Kurogane’s breaths were becoming more erratic now, and there was even a hint of a vaguely suppressed moan as the bed springs creaked again, the swordsman shifting on the bed.  A better angle? A better hold? Or something else?  And Fai couldn’t help but feel a kind of warmth spread through his body and excitement fill him and damn but he wished he could watch, or even better touch Kurogane. 

  Now there was a thought.  His body pressed up against Kurogane, lips together, and then tongues, and licking, and it was almost too much for Fai to resist reaching for his own arousal, to pleasure himself even as Kurogane gasped and moaned and how he wished his own name was on the Ninja’s lips as he came. But there was only silence, save the sound of the rusty springs as, Fai imagined, Kurogane arched up into his own hand at the end of it all. 

  Fai was glad it was over really.  Any longer and he would have had no choice but to follow Kurogane’s lead right there in the corridor. And that would have been a bad thing.  Still, it almost burned, that desire which Kurogane had unwittingly ignited in him.  He stood there, at the door, waiting for the blood to stop pounding past his eyes, waiting for his own breath to slow and his knees to stop threatening to give out, grateful for his grip on the door knob.  Just hoping his trembling and breathing wouldn’t alert the Ninja to his presence.  Fai listened then, to the sounds of running water, towel, footsteps back to the bed then covers being lifted, creaky springs. More creaky springs. Kurogane going to bed.  As though nothing had happened.  Though really, Fai thought, nothing really had. Quiet then, calm, Kurogane going to sleep, and it really was very cold now out in that corridor.