Jay wiggled the hook around inside the lock; he could feel it pressing up against the pin inside, but so far his efforts had yielded no results. Whenever it seemed like he’d managed to set one of the pins, it fell back down again—or a neighbouring pin that should have been set fell instead. With an exasperated noise, he dropped the lock—pick and tensioning tool still wedged inside—onto the coffee table. “This is pointless.”

Sebastian, sitting next to Jay on the sofa, reminded him, “You wanted to learn how to pick locks.”

Jay’s exact words at the time had been “How hard could it be?”—and, up to a point, the answer was “not very.” When he’d arrived at Sebastian’s flat this evening, there had been a few different locks prepared for him to practice on. Most were padlocks, which had all opened easily enough by jiggling a wave rake through them. Then Sebastian had moved him up to a door lock—the sort they put on the front of houses—and things got more complicated.

“Why can’t I keep using the rake?” Jay just barely managed not to whine.

“Raking will get most cheap locks open,” Sebastian conceded, “but this isn’t a cheap lock. And raking can leave scratches, which gives away that the lock was picked.” In more encouraging tones, he added, “Come on. You’re more than smart enough for this.”

Jay shook his head. “Not if I can’t see it.”

“I could get one of those see-through locks,” Sebastian said, frowning, “but those are basically toys. I don’t think—”

“No, I can’t see it,” Jay repeated, frustrated. “In my head.”

There was a look of recognition in Sebastian’s eye. “All right.” He picked the door lock up off the table, carefully extracting the hook and the tension wrench. “This is a pin tumbler lock, so there’s two sets of pins inside: the key pins, and the driving pins on top—”

“—and I’m trying to push the key pins up so the driving pins are all above the breakline and the lock can turn,” Jay finished; Sebastian had been through this explanation already. “That doesn’t help.”

“Let me finish.” Sebastian plucked a key off the coffee table, which had come with one of the padlocks. “A key is cut to push the pins into the right position. The cuts in the key are called ‘bits,’ and each bit is a specific depth—they’re standardised by the manufacturer.” He pointed out a number stamped across the head of the key. “This key’s bitting code is 1893.” Running his finger down the jagged teeth of the key, he went on: “One, eight, nine, three. See?”

The two bits in the centre were cut deep, one slightly more so than the other, while the bits on either end were shallower—the one at the key’s tip deeper than the one near its head. “It’s a passcode,” Jay realised.

Sebastian nodded. “All you need to do is find the right numbers.” He shifted on the sofa to settle in at Jay’s back, reaching around him until Jay was encircled in his arms. He placed the door lock back in Jay’s hands, then retrieved the picks and held them out to him. “So just take your time and work the problem.”

Jay sighed and took the picks, sliding them back into place. Sebastian had suggested he start at the back and work his way forward, so he pushed the hook all the way into the lock and began nudging at the furthest pin. There was some resistance, which Sebastian had told him was a good thing, so he kept pushing, higher and higher—

Click.

That high up, the pin had to correspond to one of the shallower cuts on the key—maybe a one or a two. Jay switched to the next pin, nudging it; there was no resistance, so he moved on until he found another pin that pushed back on him. It clicked into place rather quickly; that had to be one of the deeper cuts, an eight or a nine.

The next pin in line clicked into place even higher than the first had—so that was a one, and the first was a two. Between the extremes he’d found so far, it was possible to figure out the relative lengths of the other pins. He filled in the rest of the sequence in his head as he worked his way through: two, seven, one, nine, one, five—

There was a final click, and the tensioning tool slipped a little under the pressure of his finger.

With a breath of relief, Jay pushed harder on the tensioning tool. The lock turned and opened.

“There.” Sebastian grinned at Jay from over his shoulder. “I knew you could do it.”

Jay tipped his head back and kissed him. Sebastian’s arms wrapped around his waist, and they spent the rest of the evening thoroughly distracted.

---

Jay left Sebastian’s flat late the next morning, despite Sebastian’s best efforts.

“Come on.” Sebastian nuzzled into Jay’s neck from behind, fingers teasing up under the hem of his shirt. “You don’t have anywhere to be.”

“You do,” Jay reminded him, laughing. “You have a client meeting today.”

“I can cancel.”

Jay rolled his eyes and plucked Sebastian’s keys from where they hung on a hook by the front door.

Sebastian had once told Jay he couldn’t help noting every locked door he passed, evaluating how easily he could circumvent it. Jay’s own instincts weren’t all that different; every time he learned something new, he found himself applying that knowledge without even really thinking about it.

He ran his thumb down the bits of Sebastian’s house key, counting off the numbers in his head. The notch near the head was deep, but only about a quarter of the way down the width of the key—a five, probably. The one next to it was shallow—a one—so the next had to be a nine, and then another one—

Fuck.

Sebastian kissed behind Jay’s ear. “Well? Coming back to bed?”

Jay shook his head and quickly unlocked the door, handing the key back to Sebastian as he stepped through. “Go to your meeting.”

Sebastian made a noise of mock disappointment as Jay closed the door on him.

---

There were a few different key-cutting shops in Camden Town, all of a type: closet-sized, crowded with keychains and shoelaces and other necessaries up at the front, with row after row of key blanks hanging on the walls behind the desk. Jay wound up picking the one closest to his flat.

The bloke ahead of Jay in line couldn’t decide between brown or black leather for his new watch band, and had demanded the full attention of the man behind the counter as he dithered. Jay grit his teeth, tapping his keys impatiently against a glass display case full of shoe polishes.

He liked living alone. He liked having a locked door between himself and literally everyone else in the world. For so many years he’d been crammed into tiny houses and flats with family, or fellow students, and now he didn’t have to share his space with anyone.

Somehow, having Sebastian around didn’t feel like sharing. They’d been together—properly together—for nearly a year, and now when Jay thought about home, about safety, Sebastian was always there.

He’d known exactly how to explain picking that lock so Jay would understand it. Jay had no illusions that Sebastian could read his mind, but clearly he understood how it worked. And if he’d wormed his way into Jay’s head, what did it matter if he had free access to Jay’s flat?

The indecisive watch owner finally paid for his purchase and ambled out the door. The man behind the counter was, like his shop, one of a type: middle aged, short-sleeved work shirt tucked into jeans, keys on a carabiner at his belt. He acknowledged Jay with a nod and said, “Can I help you?”

Jay set his keys on the countertop. “I need a spare cut.”

---

While Sebastian technically owned the Marigold Cinema, it had quickly become apparent that Jay was exerting some influence over the running of the business. The film schedule was the biggest clue.

It was just past ten when Sebastian exited the cinema with the rest of the crowd, Jay at his side. “That,” Sebastian said contemplatively, “was bloody awful.”

Jay laughed the particular cackling laugh that meant he was enjoying Sebastian’s suffering. “It was formative, all right?”

Sebastian shook his head and slung an arm around Jay’s shoulders, pulling him in close. “If I ever hear you say ‘hack the planet,’” he promised, playfully threatening, “I’m leaving you.”

Jay grinned and leaned into his side—then, as the crowds around them thinned, he tugged at Sebastian’s elbow, steering them into the relative shelter of a closed shopfront. Suddenly there was a strange, nervous energy about him.

“Something wrong?” Sebastian asked.

Jay didn’t answer, instead grabbing Sebastian’s hand so he could shove something into it—a key, attached to a key ring with a fob hanging off it.

Sebastian blinked down at it. “What’s this?”

Jay took a steadying breath. “The spare key to my flat.”

That took a second or two to process. Jay was protective of his space, and Sebastian had been aware from the start that his access to it was a rare privilege. But now Jay was giving him permission to come and go as he pleased. “You’re sure about this?”

Jay made an annoyed noise and shoved a hand into Sebastian’s jacket pocket. Sebastian couldn’t find it in him to protest, instead holding his arms out of the way as Jay rummaged around until he found Sebastian’s keys. He held up the key to his flat and pointed out the first bit, near the tip. “Two,” he said, then pointed to the next. “Seven.” He made his way down the length of the key. “One, nine, one, five. It’s the same code as the door lock you gave me to practice on.”

“Is it?” Sebastian said—a desperate attempt at a bluff.

“You cloned your own lock,” Jay said, not fooled for a moment. “You’ve been teaching me to break into your flat.”

Sebastian didn’t see much point in denying it.

Jay shook his head, rolling his eyes. “You could’ve just given me a key.”

“I wasn’t sure you’d take it,” Sebastian admitted quietly.

Jay’s expression softened, and he reached up to tug Sebastian down into a kiss. Sebastian sighed into his mouth, relaxing a little. They lingered there for a long moment, until Jay pulled back and said, “Seriously, though. Just give me an actual key. I’m not picking the lock every time I need to get into your flat.”

Sebastian cocked half a smile at him. “It’d be good practice.”

“Your neighbours already look at me sideways,” Jay shot back. “If any of them catch me trying to break in, they’ll have me fucking arrested.”

Sebastian laughed and tucked Jay’s key safely into his pocket. “All right, fine.”