Drift
by omi

Oshitari Yuushi would be the first to admit he was not the most hardworking person alive. Sometime early on in his childhood, a young Oshitari came to the wonderful realisation that it was much easier to coast through life if you didn't make waves, didn't try to be too clever, if you didn't attract too much attention from all the wrong people.

He would devote the next eighteen years of his life finetuning to perfection the balance between putting in enough effort to do well, but not well enough to attract envy or too much attention. To be friendly, but not out-going. Attentive, but not concerned. Charming, but not flamboyant.

'Perfection in a lower key' his teammates would joke. Oshitari simply smiled and shrugged them off. They may laugh all they want, he thought, even as he smiled good-humouredly, but it was a modus operandi that worked.

There were always exceptions, of course.

Fuji, for one.

Atobe, for another.

They came crashing blindly into his life, past his carefully positioned boundaries, invading his world with breath-taking matter-of-fact ease. They planted themselves firmly into practically every detail of his life. Oshitari could barely turn before an aristocratic nose pried itself in his business, or where slender, almost delicate-looking fingers poke and sieve through his emotions before he himself could sort through it. They were important, in a way few things are, to him.

Which was why when the news broke that Atobe's parents had arranged a marriage for him -- a politically-motivated linkage between two of Japan's richest families -- Oshitari prepared himself for the fallout.

After all, he had been there from the start. He was there when Atobe announced with typical flamboyancy that he and Tezuka were 'stepping out together'. He saw how Atobe's face lit up after every phone call with Tezuka, and tactfully ignored the glow surrounding him after every date.

Given Atobe's temperament, Oshitari readied himself for everything ranging from outright rebellion to immediate elopment to Germany on the Atobe's private jet.

What he wasn't expecting was the deafening silence from both Atobe and Tezuka.

Atobe came back that day, seemingly unchanged in every way, except for his eyes. Oshitari would never forget how his eyes looked that day. Pools of dead water above a frozen, arrogant smile.

Oshitari wanted to shake him, wanted to knock some sense into him, sit him in front of a pitcher of whiskey sours -- something, anything, to get rid of the deadness in his eyes. Instead, he was helpless. There was nothing he could say, nothing he do, to help. He could only watch on as Atobe turned quieter and quieter as the days passed.

So, it felt very much like karma, when he walked into a bar with some of his ex-classmates, the day before Atobe's wedding, and found Tezuka and Fuji and a couple others from Seigaku there too. He would have ignored them -- really, he would have, except Tezuka looked so fucking normal.

He ordered a gin and tonic that was mostly gin, took a decent slug, and walked over.

The former Seigaku fuku-buchou greeted him politely, "How are you, Oshitari-san?"

Oshitari lifted an elegant shoulder, "Ah, same old, same old..." he drawled. "Someone's getting married tomorrow, though." He said, lifting his glass to his lips again. Dark blue eyes barely flickered towards Tezuka's face.

There was still no visible change on Tezuka's face, no involuntarily flinch, no wince, no sadness. Oshitari's lips curled, and he knocked back the rest of his drink just as Fuji spoke up.

"Sa... Oshitari-kun, you've finally gotten one of your girlfriends pregnant and taking responsibility for your actions?" he asked innocently, eyes crinkled in a quizzical smile.

Oshitari choked then, spewing his gin and tonic all over himself and onto half the table. Girlfriend? PREGNANT--?!

There was a general scramble for napkins and mad dabbing at sodden shirts and sweaters, and one of his classmates finally lost his patience and came over to strongarmed him back to their group. Tezuka left soon after.

Good, thought Oshitari with just the slightest bit of spite, as he watched the other man make his way out of the pub without coat or hat. Maybe his words had had an effect on the bastard after all, and he carefully avoided looking Fuji's way for the rest of the evening. Not that he stayed that much longer. Oshitari downed his last drink for the evening with a savageness that drew strange and concerned looks from his friends and bid everyone a curt farewell, ignoring protests from his friends.

His mood lasted all the way home, back to his apartment.

His keychain jangled as he opened the door, the silver cold within his hand. The place was empty and cold, with only the smell of old cigarette smoke lingering in the air.

He collapsed onto the sofa, and stared blankly at the walls.

It wasn't too long before the door creaked open again, and soft footsteps padded and came to a stop before him.

"Ah, the pregnant girlfriend returns," said Oshitari dryly. "Of course I'll take responsibility and marry you. Just as soon as the pregnancy kit comes back positive."

Fuji dropped his keys onto the table and curled up onto the sofa next to Oshitari. "Never challenge a genius," he said with a faint smile. "I might just do that."

"What? Come back pregnant?" Oshitari answered, his eyebrows lifting.

Fuji smiled, catlike and secretive. "Maybe."

"You do that. And maybe Atobe will find another lover, and maybe Tezuka would know what it is like to get his heart broken. If he has one." His breath huffed out in contempt.

Fuji's smile dropped away for an instant, as he struggled between the urge to defend his best friend and the urge to smack Oshitari. Then his gaze fell upon Oshitari's clenched hand, and he was lost.

Sighing, Fuji tucked his chin onto the crook of Oshitari's neck and shoulder. "You're a romantic, Yuushi," murmured Fuji, his breath warm on the fine black wavy hair and pale pale skin there. "But we can't force happy endings on people... They have to look for their own happy endings themselves."

"I know," said Oshitari softly, and his arm came up around Fuji. He tugged slightly and Fuji came without resistance, into his arms. They sat there, arms around each other, quietly, until Fuji tilt his head up. "We can always elope if I get pregnant, or if your family or mine make us get married to some female person."

A smile slowly grew on Oshitari's face. "I always wanted to go to Tahiti," he said, even as his hands slipped lower, and vanished beneath Fuji's clothes. A half-laugh, half-gasp escaped from Fuji. "What, now? Here?" he laughed, even as he arched his back cooperatively.

"Why not? I'm willing to try if you are," murmured Oshitari suggestively against Fuji's bared throat. His hands fondled Fuji's stomach for a while, before dipping lower. "You did say you wanted to get pregnant..."