Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

When Rude turns 13, his life becomes significantly worse. He grows 6 inches in 6 months, so his pants are too short. He sprouts a mustache before his voice breaks. He discovers acne and awkward boners.

And worst of all, he gets his Words.

The luckiest people have a soulmate. The Goddess of Fate presides over their world, her many hands weaving threads together. Every connection exists in a beautiful tapestry beyond human comprehension.

But not every person with a soulmate meets their soulmate. They are the lucky few, guaranteed to find their other half. When one breaks free of childhood and begins the upward climb to adulthood, a black line of text appears on one's body overnight. It could be on an arm or a leg. Some unluckily get it on their necks or high up on their chest. It will be the first words their soulmate says to them, and when that magical day happens, the text turns a brilliant gold for as long as their soulmate lives.

Rude wakes up one morning, stumbles into the bathroom for his morning pee, and stares blearily at the mirror afterward, rubbing his eyes.

He sees it written low across his belly in ugly handwriting:

Outta my way, fatass.

Rude stares at himself, the horrible realization taking its time to manifest. His soulmate is real.

A real asshole.

Getting his words is supposed to be exciting. He is going to be mated to the perfect person just for him. And yet the words fill him with embarrassment and shame. He hasn't thought of himself as fat, or even bothersome in a way that would put himself in the way.

At 13, the words feel like a prison sentence. He doesn't tell his (soulmated) parents. He withdraws, speaking less and exercising more until his outer life grows gray and quiet.

He ignores the words on his belly, and slowly, the words from his mouth disappear too. His parents ask him about therapy and anti-depressants. They get his perfectly normal brain scanned.

They don't know, and he won't burden them with it.

His whole family learns sign language -- Rude to use it, and his family to hear him. He gets growth spurts and binge eats from natural urges; he throws up from unnatural ones. He will never be a fatass.

He can still do his academic work. He writes papers, he answers math questions. He joins the football team. In high school, he is one of the only boys on the team that doesn't need a tutor. And the coach loves him. Rude doesn't back talk. He follows orders. If he makes a mistake, he gets up and tries again.

He lifts a lot of weights.

The first sound he makes around his teammates is a roar of triumph when his personal best weight is an all-time school record. His coach sheds a tear and his teammates throw themselves on him like he recited a soliloquy.

Rude is mute, but he is open. Communicative. Maybe even subservient, as following orders has only benefitted him.

He graduates and joins the Shinra's military division. He almost doesn't include his inability to speak on his application, but that's something that's hard to cover up.

He's accepted, and because he is "on disability", he receives his own room.

At first he is furious that he receives special treatment on account of it, until he meets the other recruits and finds out their rooms are the same size, only with two people filling the already small space.

Rude is head taller than most. He accepts his private space with grace, which is more than he can say for some of the others.

The first year, everyone is in the same huge pool of candidates. There are specializations to choose from -- SOLDIER and Public Security being the most popular -- but Rude doesn't even care. He is fighting against fate. What he wants doesn't even seem to be on the list. What he wants never stopped fate from ruining his chances of a happy life with a soulmate, after all.

At the end of the first year of endless physical and mental training, everyone's results are in string-tied manilla envelopes. He queues up with the others in the enormous hall, his muscular body imposing around a sea of people who weren't even going to make it out of the science division.

And then hears the commotion, bodies shuffling and moving, someone's bag being shoved to the ground. He feels the elbow jab into his side. He hears the words float through the air like the music of angels. "Outta my way, fatass!"

His mouth drops open with a shivery inhale. He feels the tingle on the right of his body and then sweep across the front, and as it turns, changes, it tingles, as if it's being written now with the most sensual pen, and then it sizzles white hot for a moment.

His eyes widen at the tornado of a man that shoved him, that spoke his words, that turned them to a permanent, glistening gold. Years of resentment and rage feel dulled by the warmth in his chest.

The guy bulldozes through the orderly queue, shoving a few others to snap his envelope up. Rude's eyes narrow in on him as he impolitely rips it open in front of everyone and then balks. "What the fuck is Administrative Research!? What the hell is this? That recruiter is about to get a boot up his ass."

His fist clenches, mouth snapping shut and drawing into a thin line. The guy is worse than he imagined. The warmth seeps out into the air, and instead it's only left him with a disconcerted shudder in his guts.

Rude calms himself while the line whittles itself down. He takes his envelope with a respectful incline of his head and practically sprints back to his private room.

He grabs the tip of the twine and unwraps its figure 8 shape from the two cardboard circles. He opens the flap. He pulls out the letter, exhales, and reads.

You have been selected for the Administrative Research program.

The goddess of fate is a real asshole, too.

His "soulmate's" name is Reno. He's loud, perpetually late, and the bane of Rude's existence.

The first time they were introduced, Reno said his name and Rude signed his. Reno held a hand up to his ear and Rude shrugged.

"What, you too good for me, you quiet freak?" Reno asked, and then lurched forward, invading Rude's space. The stink of his grocery store cologne made Rude's jaw clench. "I don't like the way you look at me, either. Fucking creep."

Rude has worn sunglasses since that day.

To be fair, it has only upped his intimidation factor. Reno avoids him like the plague. Rude spends all his free time in the gym and counting macros like a perfectly sane person who is not ignoring real problems in his life.

He also discovers that "Administrative Research" is a fake department name, and that the first thing they did to every one of them was have them sign a contract with a huge salary attached to it.

The second was to have them wait in a tiny room before someone came in to beat them senseless. An initiation, they'd called it. A torn off fingernail, two broken fingers, six bruised ribs.

He and the others all looked worse for wear when (almost) everyone showed up for work, which is how they all learned about desk duty.

A sick part of Rude is grateful they only took a fingernail from his left hand, but the broken fingers have fucked up his ability to talk. He doesn't always need two hands, but when he does, he winces and tries not to clench them and cause more problems.

Three days in, the back of his neck feels warm, like he's being spied on. He spins around and standing there is Reno, staring unabashedly. It annoys him that he'll be able to tell when Reno is looking at him, but at least his sunglasses block his own gaze.

Rude spreads his hands. It's an invitation. Reno glances around and saunters up to him.

"Heard they broke your hand," Reno says. "You can understand me, right? They said you weren't like, deaf."

Rude nods.

"That is fucked up that they messed up your ability to talk," Reno says. "We all got our asses beat, but I don't think they fucked with anyone's finger bones. It's not your fault you're retarded."

Rude stares at him in disbelief.

Reno winces. "Sorry. You know what I mean."

Do I? he signs, not that Reno knows what it is.

The communication disconnect causes Reno to frown, his brows pulling down and wrinkles to form around his mouth. He genuinely seems upset.

"Sorry. But I know a guy who's got Cure materia. We're not supposed to use it, but they kicked the shit out of me and I live on like the 30th floor. I ain't walking 30 flights twice a day."

Rude signs, Elevator? It's an awkward one, but thankfully it requires his left hand to be a flat plank, while his right hand presses against it and moves upward.

Reno stares at him for a couple of seconds and then goes, "I don't like elevators. Got stuck in one once."

Rude feels that warmth that could only be described as my soulmate understands me! He quashes it the moment he recognizes it, the feeling replaced with relief that Reno is at least not an idiot.

"Do you want the materia guy or not?"

Rude signs yes and nods his head. Reno's eyes flicker from his head to his hands and nods back at him. He wonders for a brief moment if the man is capable of learning anything.

Chapter Text

Rude finds working out meditative. Because he can't scream his head off when he is frustrated, the only thing he can do is count his sets in his head. Listen to the clank of metal barbells. Feel elation when he hits a personal best.

As a new member of the Administrative Research team, he is given a new outlet: violence.

Rude doesn't know a whole lot of hand to hand combat. He's gotten in fights -- despite his size, his silence always rubs the wrong kind of men (like his soulmate) the wrong way. And though he can take care of himself under most circumstances, the "Initiation" showed him how little he knew about self defense.

Now when he is punched or kicked, he punches and kicks in return. His big muscles that were once for aesthetics change and morph. His legs get thinner, if only to add speed. His waist thinner, his shoulders broader. His arms and chest are still big, but the more he fights, the less burdened he is by his size.

A thought occurs to him once a day during training: Maybe you really were a fatass that day.

He knows he's not, and never was, but it still causes him to stare in his dingey bathroom mirror and wonder. His short hair is a curly embarrassing mess, and that day someone had reached in and snatched him by it, yanking and almost drawing blood.

Rude does what he has done since he was 13: he identifies the problem and then solves it.

It takes him three safety razors, but he shaves his head. The paleness of it shocks him and he vows to spend an hour a day working outside, if only to even out the skin on his scalp with the rest of him.

His colleagues poke fun at him all day. Reno saunters past him and smirks, "Really owning up to the freakiness factor, huh?"

Rude ignores him, like he does most of the things that come out of that stinking rat boy's mouth. And he is rewarded for his patience and easy nature, because today the name drawn to fight him is Reno's.

Reno is short and skinny. Worthless in a fight, if Rude is honest with himself. They circle each other, Rude's focus switching between Reno's feet and his hands. Reno is talking, as always: "Say your prayers, mute mountain. I'm gonna mop the floor with you. Or I would, if you had any fucking hair left."

While Reno is talking, Rude lunges forward to surprise his opponent. His fist is the size of Reno's face, and it smashes into his cheek with a sickening crack.

The skin to skin contact for that one moment lights up Rude's insides. A coiled loneliness unfurls, encouraging him to do it again. Touch Reno, his heart screams. And so he does. His fists pound on Reno's face, his chest, his stomach. Reno is smaller and faster, but he got so wound up in childish jibes that he was unable to pull himself free of the cage of Rude's arms.

"Uncle!" Reno cries, blood pouring from his mouth and nose. His green eyes tremble with a fear that Rude has never seen before.

It takes all of Rude's strength not to lick the blood from Reno's lips.

Rude stands and gazes down at Reno. He signs, You don't know me. He knows Reno won't understand. He doesn't care. He gets up and moves to sparring drills with his instructor.

Out of the corner of his eye, he watches Reno get looked at by the medic. Reno pushes him away, furious that he was humiliated by the big dumb mute.

Rude smiles, and his instructor gut punches him. "Don't get cocky."

Rude grunts, acknowledges his mistake, and moves on.

Dating is hard for him.

It's not because of Reno's existence. Rude couldn't care less about what that annoying dick got into. But Rude has a romantic streak in him. He wants sensuality, lingering touches, worshipful kisses.

But if he takes his shirt off during sex, they're going to see the tattoo. He'd gotten so desperate he tried to cover it with makeup, but after the words became gold, they shined right through. The idea of explaining the situation to a one night stand was not desirable, but Rude was so busy on his own body in high school he hadn't noticed anyone else's.

Now he's alone in his Shinra dorm room a lot with his dick in his hand.

He doesn't want to become some forever alone porn addict, so he refrains from using the stuff since he can't supplement with real women. Instead, he tortures himself in another way: he touches the words.

When Rude is horny, the area becomes pleasurable to touch. His fingertips dipping over and tracing the letters offer him something delectable. It is ticklish until it burns into a pleasure he has to imagine: someone else touching it. He can't imagine his soulmate, Rude prefers women and he hates his. So it's usually girls; girls from school, girls from work now. There aren't that many in Admin Research. He remembers a brunette, so he works with that.

Her fingers would be skinnier, lighter. He eases the pressure of his hands to simulate it. She would reassure him of his body, of the size of his penis, and then her skinny hands would wrap around it.

He uses one hand, but she would have to use two. His left hand creeps onto the words while his right pump his dick faster. She would tell him she never got words. He would find his voice and tell her, "I'll give them to you."

The fantasy has made him cum an embarrassing amount of times, and this time is no different. In his mind he splatters it on her chest, perky titties with sweet pink nipples. The image makes his cock spurt again and he presses his lips together, unable to hold back a deep moan. Those nipples. They make his head spin.

They give him homework. A stack of nonfiction books to read; the history of Midgar, military tactics, jobs previous team members had to complete. He saw the word come up again and again. Turks. The real name for what he was training to become. The elite shadows behind the men in power.

He wonders if he's willing to give up his humanity for that salary. He wonders if it even matters. He's never seen most of these books before. A classified kind of history that only a few are allowed to read. The truth of peace at home with secrets hidden.

If he offered a letter of resignation, they would probably shoot him.

"Whatcha reading, cueball?"

Rude flinches enough to make Reno cackle. He frowns, closing the book around one finger. What is he supposed to do here? He lifts the book to show him and Reno nods in understanding. "That one is at least one of the good ones. Lots of gory shit in there."

He tries hard not to let his mouth waver into one of disgust. If he's going to talk, then he's going to talk. Even though Rude is in the library and would have rather been alone.

"Are you busy?" Reno asks.

This time the annoyance is hard to hide. He turns his head up to look at Reno and signs, Yes. I'm studying.

"Yeah, yeah. We all have plenty of time to read that stuff. I hear some of the others are gonna go fight over the rights to a top bunk. Wanna come watch?"

Reno loves the sound of his own voice, doesn't he? Rude signs No and opens his book back up.

Reno drops down to eye level, one thin-fingered hand landing on the cover of his book to force it closed. "Don't you want to have some fun for once?"

Their hands are almost touching. Just a paperback cover and thirty thin pages separate them. Rude's mind fogs up, his hands grow clammy. He withdraws from the book, trying to find his bearings. Why are you asking me?

"I don't know! Maybe I want to get to know you. You've been a real dick ever since we first met."

Rude's mouth drops open. Me? You called me a fatass when we met.

Reno's nose scrunches. "I called you what? Sorry I'm still like, figuring it out."

And then he realizes that they have been conversing. Reno's eyes have been on his hands, and he is… He is proficient.

You can read my signs.

"Some of them, yeah. What'd I call you?"

Rude spells it out slowly with his hand.

"Oh come on, I know I called you retarded but I never called you a fatass!"

The day with the envelope.

"With the what?"

He makes the sign, and then spells it out. E-n-v-e…

"The envelope? What day with…" Reno's eyes grow distant as he thinks. Forces a memory. "Were you even there?"

Unbelievable. Rude gestures. Go bother someone else.

"I don't know what that means, but it feels rude."

Rude doesn't look up at him for that. Instead, he offers him his middle finger, and opens the book back up.

Reno sighs, obviously stung, and slinks away. The vice on Rude's heart unclenches and he is finally able to breathe.

Reno finds him at lunch a lot more often. Rude wants to be irritated that the world's most annoying man won't leave him alone, and that the goddess continues to mock him… But Reno hasn't called him a mean name in weeks, and the conversation is good.

That is to say, Reno is an insufferable gossip, and so is Rude. But he can enjoy it and remain stoic, though this latest bit is enough to get an awkward laugh out of him.

Reno stares at him. Rude can already tell when Reno is staring, but when he makes eye contact, Rude sees him through a golden glowing aura. It makes him want to puke and he's glad every day he wears the sunglasses. Right now the stare is so uncomfortable he has to look away.

"Oh, sorry. I'd just never heard your voice. You like--you can make sounds?"

Rude shrugs. Some.

"For a fucking egg head, you have a deep voice," Reno remarks.

Rude presses his face into his palm.

"Shit! Sorry. Didn't mean to call you that. You just make it easy, bro."

Rude has to raise his head. Three weeks.

"Huh?"

No names in three weeks. We're starting over.

"You make me out to be such a bad guy, Rude."

You are the worst.

Reno smiles at him, and it's a fucking beam. "Yeah right. I'm hilarious. I made you laugh. I heard it and everything."

A sour feeling curls in his gut. Fighting against fate is harder than he expected.

I have to go. Rude gets up, and Reno reaches for his hand.

"Wait!"

Rude jerks his hand away, and though he is in sunglasses, the burn of his angry stare could be felt by anyone there. Reno looks like an embarrassed cat, narrowing his eyes and scrunching his ears into his shoulders.

"You wanna go to the bar later?"

No.

Rude barely manages not to sprint back to the dormitories.

His thoughts spiral. Reno won't leave him alone. But Rude doesn't want anything to do with him. Those stupid ugly words have given him a serious complex with his body, kept him a virgin out of shame, and now they taunt him.

Reno doesn't even remember calling him a fatass. He doesn't even remember the moment, the moment. Rude's life changing event, where everything became before Reno said his words and then everything after.

Rude's chest feels hollow when he thinks about it too long. Reno is careless. Thoughtless. The worst kind of soulmate. Rude is right to avoid him, to prevent the completion. He'll never say whatever it is that's on Reno's body.

He's wondered, sometimes.

Is the mark in the same place?

Will it be Rude's dying words? Wouldn't that be something, if the words on Reno were "I've been lying to you all these years"?

Rude stares up at the ceiling from his bed. The existential dread thrums inside him. What has he set up for himself?

The next time Reno finds him at lunch, Rude gets up and leaves.

"Is this about the nickname? I didn't mean anything by it!"

Rude stops and turns. He has to be clear, so he is slow with the signs: Stay away from me.

Reno glares at him defiantly. "Why? You're not my boss."

You are not my friend, Rude says. Reno's facial expressions freezes over, changing from an angry sneer into something emptier. The golden glow goes blue. Rude realizes then that it's not the bond he's seeing, but Reno's very aura.

"Fuck you, man," Reno says, and walks away from him.

Rude aches, but the further Reno moves from him, the easier it is to breathe. This is what he wants. To be far away from him.

Chapter Text

Rude's time in the library is peaceful again. He catches up on the gory details of the future of his work. He studies engineering diagrams for how the city runs and how the plates are securely attached to the central core and eight reactors. He fills his mind with anything he can that isn't him.

He spends a lot more time in the gym, though a punching bag is his new tool of choice. He has to have earbuds in lest his restless mind think of anything other than left hook, right jab.

In the cafeteria, no one approaches his table. It's back to how it was. Quiet and lonely. But it also gave him no anxiety the way hanging around with Reno did. His heart always raced with fear that this would be it. This would be the day, he'd blurt something out and then he would be stuck with him forever.

The first time after Rude told him you're not my friend, he spots Reno sitting practically in the lap of a compatriot, Rafe. The glow around him is pink, and it makes Rude feel queasy. He looks away and chokes down his food to get away as fast as possible.

The final test for the recruits is in the field. It's a test environment, but it was also a duo assignment. One could request a specific partner, but otherwise you were tossed to random chance. He'd emailed in, asking if he could avoid a specific choice, but there hadn't been a response.

The day felt ominous. There was a chance he could end up with him, however small. There were 29 others in the group, so Rude felt good about his chances. If he just yes-manned his way through it, or wrote down some answers to his partner, then it was going to be a piece of cake. Rude could take care of himself and knew that he wouldn't be taking point so he could protect his potential partner.

He had thought it all through when he goes to find out who his partner will be.

He laughs when he reads it, because of course it just says Reno.

All of them meet on the same floor as the Shinra holo training unit. Rude spots Reno first because of the faint gray glow around him. The color of it is an annoying realization. Reno is either not furious, or he's just resigned to it already. How could Reno possibly have more bodily patience than Rude!?

He steps up to him and waves, and he hates every moment of Reno's slow recognition that he's there. "Good, you made it. You're lucky, you know that?"

Rude looks at him in mild confusion, spreading his hands.

"Rafe already chose a partner, and he told me to take pity on you."

Rude's lips part as he takes in a shaky breath.

"I'm the only person that can understand you. There's no way you can succeed at being a Turk if you fail this test. So I requested you."

Rude's fists clench at his fucking luck.

"I'm doing you a favor, you fat fuck," Reno says, and the words sting. Reno chose that phrasing on purpose. "After all this is over, we'll never have to associate again, capisce?"

Rude stares at him and the gray aura warms up. The gold is returning. This idiot. This jackass. All Rude wants to do is defy fate, and Reno keeps fucking him over. You believe that?

"I better believe it. You're dumb as a rock and a fucking liability. Who knows when you accidentally hurt your teammate just because you squeezed too hard, you know what I mean? So after this little favor, it's splitsville."

Everything he's saying is wrong. It's practically gibberish. Rude starts laughing again.

"Shut the fuck up, you silent bitch!" Reno hisses, and that only makes it more funny.

And somehow, no words come out.

Rude's anxiety wanes.

The two read the brief and then step into the Holo Unit.

Rude and Reno get the best combined score. With minimal communication, a few shouts and a few hand signals, they complete the task in under twenty minutes.

Rude is relieved. He knows he has clinched his position as a Turk. He is going to be able to live the life he thinks he deserves.

But just two days later, the 10 surviving members of the group are offered new apartments, and while it isn't the norm, some are placed into partnerships.

Rude and Reno are made partners.

Rude is grateful it's only for work, and that it still meant he got an upgraded apartment, it didn't extend into being roommates.

The goddess of fate is rearranging his damn life like a GPS navigation trying to fix the path while turning down the wrong street. It's driving him nuts. He refuses to give in to this. It's not a happy life for him, and if it is one for Reno, he doesn't want to offer him that. He's such a pain in the ass that he deserves the same suffering that Rude goes through. And perhaps that will be the end of it: working together as hated colleagues for the rest of his days.

Is Hell actually better than this?

He thinks about killing himself sometimes, but then he gets his first paycheck and splurges on kidskin gloves and a fire materia, and takes himself to a fancy restaurant.

He flirts with the waitress. He knows life is worth living. He just has to go through his days with a shitty coworker, and isn't that what most people suffer through?

He goes home and touches the words and doesn't think of Reno.

Being Reno’s partner is exhausting. They consistently get good marks on their missions together, but Rude is the one relegated to paperwork since Reno does all the talking with any suspects. Rude admits he’s a little jealous of how charismatic Reno can be. He only really associated him with the vulgar teenager who ruined his life.

Turns out that Reno is also very funny, slick, and women find him handsome. That makes it even more awkward when Reno always turns them down with, “Sorry ladies. I’m a man’s man.”

Reno's gay.

So… That makes things more complicated.

Rude is not gay and has not had thoughts about men. Occasionally a “thought” might slip through but never long enough for him to hold onto it.

They have a mission type called a “honey pot”. Rude is unfamiliar with it, but Reno isn’t. He makes a face when he finds out that is hard to interpret. Disgust? Excitement? Delight?

Rude reads the brief and finds out what it means. His own face is stuck with “disgust”.

Shinra provides him with a brand new suit, and they bring a tailor into the office. He thinks he looks pretty good, but it feels like overkill to bring in a tailor just for this.

Then Reno is fitted for a dress.

Don’t they have women for this kind of job? Rude signs.

“Not one who can carry the target if something goes wrong,” Reno says.

The dress has extra padding at the hips to add to the illusion. He wears small falsies, so as to not impede his ability to do his job. The dress is red and sparkling and it’s the body of a movie starlet. Too bad about the face, Rude thinks.

On the mission, he sees Reno in makeup for the first time, and his mind gets very confused.

Rude has an idea of the kind of woman he wants. She is lithe, with long legs and a knowing little smile. Pretty eyes, enticing lips. Long hair.

Reno is all that. His hair was too short so they’ve put him in an expensive red wig, whose bouncy waves hide the sharpness of his cheekbones. Rude stands off to the side as the maitre’d, imposing as though he is making sure ‘his’ restaurant runs smoothly.

When Reno’s hand is taken and he’s led out of the restaurant by their target, Rude’s heartrate spikes. The rage and jealousy comes out of nowhere. That’s my girl, not yours.

Except that’s nobody’s girl. It’s his crossdressing partner, who doesn’t actually look like that.

Rude slips out of the restaurant and trails Reno and his charge.

The guy is already unconscious when Rude lets himself into the hotel room. “What took you so long?”

I was ten minutes behind you.

“Yeah, well. He tried to get his hand up my dress so I had to tranq his fat ass early.”

The man is heavy. Do you think I look like that?

"Oh my god shut up and get his wallet, asshole!"

Rude can't help smirking to himself as he squats by the body. He's still breathing, though the cocktail in Reno's syringe is sure to fuck with his memory. Rude finds the wallet with several fabricated Shinra IDs and tucks them into his suit jacket pocket. Then he finds the man's suitcase and rifles through it.

He pulls out two handguns, three bottles of poison and an egg carton full of glowing red materia.

Rude stares at them long enough for Reno to come over. "Damn. Never seen one that color before."

Rude can't help himself, his hands moving without his brain thinking: Like your dress.

"Shut up! You're fucking wearing the wig next time."

Reno looks like the beautiful woman of his dreams through a golden halo. And when that voice comes out of his mouth, somehow it doesn't disgust him. It almost… excites him.

'God', he thinks. 'I have got to get laid.'

They get their first execution mission.

It doesn't go well. Rude hesitated with the gun, and it turned into a bloody fight. He took a bullet of his own in the arm. When he finally managed to hit the target, it was messy. Reno had gotten splattered in bits of skull and brain and been promptly sick.

They sneak back into the Shinra building and take the showers on opposite ends of the locker room. Rude doesn't want to listen to the sound of viscera splattering to the floor. He can't even close his eyes. He still sees it. What he'd done.

What he's going to do for the rest of his life.

He turns off the shower, and Reno does at the same time. "Yo," he hears across the locker room. "Want to get wasted?"

Rude knocks sharply twice on the tile as an affirmation.

"Cool," he hears.

They meet outside dressed in the pre-packaged white t-shirts and sweats with the Shinra logos on them, their dirty clothes now the problem of company dry cleaners. Rude takes them back to his room since he has his own space. They sit on his bed, the only real furniture here since his kitchenette doesn't even have a counter with a stool.

They pass a bottle of whiskey back and forth. Neither of them want to talk about it.

It's quiet for half the bottle.

"Do you have words, Rude?" Reno asks, breaking the silence.

Rude pulls his sunglasses off and stares at Reno, really stares at him. He hopes that look is enough to maybe imply that Reno is stupid for assuming he would have words, since he can't speak.

He really hopes Reno won't investigate.

"Sorry. Of course you don't. My bad." Reno takes the whiskey and then just holds the bottle, looking at it. Rude isn't in any hurry to drink any more right away. All of that is about to hit him hard, and he is counting the sober minutes left.

"I do. I just thought I might have met them by now, you know? It's pretty normal to meet early, right? Fate's will and all that."

Rude nods, but his hands are tucked into his lap, silent.

"It's fucked up because, this is our life, you know? Mine and yours and every other Turk. We have to do really fucked up shit. If I was like… A normie, you know, even just a pencil pusher at Shinra. I wouldn't want to date someone like me. Hell, I've had to make out with dudes for work. So what the hell is the point of hoping they're even out there when they realize what I do?"

Reno takes a long drink and passes the bottle back before he croaks out, "Who I really am."

I'm sorry, Rude signs. He can't blow his cover, and Reno looks despondent. Sad eyebrows and big sensitive eyes and wobbling, pouty lips.

He's adorable, and Rude suffers silently, staring at him. This feeling in him is warm and achey. It's longing. Rude doesn't know how to process that his heart wants Reno. Normally he's able to keep the emotions under wraps, but tonight was stressful and right now his entire world and support system is next to him.

"Hey, Rude?" Their eyes make contact and Rude's pulse quickens. "Are you a virgin?"

Rude frowns. He doesn't want to answer that question. Which is an answer in and of itself.

"Sorry. I'm all over the place. I just thought, maybe. If you wanted to take your mind off of. Uh."

He can feel his face and neck growing hot with shame, and he still can't tear his eyes away from Reno's.

"I mean, I don't even know if you're into like. Men, but."

No, Rude signs.

"Maybe I could just give you a hand job?"

Rude hates this man. Why the hell is Reno torturing him with this? Can't they just be drunk and miserable without giving the fucking goddess what she wants?

Rude fidgets with his hands in his lap, and Reno's hand slowly moves over them.

Those slim fingers. He's fantasized about them.

Rude lifts his hand. Why?

"I'm gonna be honest because I drank half a bottle of whiskey," Reno says, his fingers moving to the waistband of Rude's pants. Rude doesn't stop him. "I think you're hot and it would really help me think about something else."

The horrors happened hours ago but the booze has helped it fade into a vague blur. Reno saying you're hot has Rude's cock perking up, and he grits his teeth as the palm of Reno's hand curves sweetly against his bulge.

"Damn, you feel kinda big," Reno asks. "You bald down there too?"

Rude swats him on the arm as a fake reprimand. Reno's lips spread into a comely grin. Rude's cock gets even harder. God, he's in trouble.

Reno tries to push up Rude's shirt, but Rude grabs his wrist. There's only one way to get him to leave him alone about the shirt, so he pushes Reno's hand under his waistband.

Reno's eyes light up, his breaths trembling from excitement. "Holy shit," he says, and then those fingers curl perfectly around his cock. Rude lets go of him, moving his hands to his sides and then pushing his sweats down his hips enough for his cock and Reno's hand to be exposed to the open air. The smell of precum embarrasses him, but Reno is panting too much to notice.

"How are you hiding all this," Reno whispers, his left hand curling up and down the shaft. Rude struggles to look away from his own foreskin sliding up and over the head, especially when his focus moves to Reno's face, the rush of pleasure intensifies.

"God. I wish you were into it. I'd ride you."

Rude pictures him from that night. The eye makeup, the soft hair, the enticing lips. Rude's lips part, breath growing ragged. He is into this, the touching. It's the most he's ever had, only ever from himself. He tried to turn it into real self love when he did instead of doing some perfunctory chore.

Except all Reno is doing is jerking his dick up and down and it's a hundred times better than his all-knowing hand has ever been.

"Fuck. I bet I could…" Reno starts, placing his other hand below the left. He uses them both to pump the length of his cock, twisting, caressing. "Yeah, like that."

Rude moans. He can't stop himself, it's deep and needy and it's the only way he can communicate. It's embarrassing until Reno gasps, "Your voice. You have the sexiest voice I've ever heard."

Rude could fuck this man. He could love this man. He could kiss him. Find the words somehow. Get over all the bad feelings.

Reno's head drops, his cute pink mouth hovering just above his cock. Rude wants to be blown so badly that the pleasure crescendos in an instant. He holds his breath, voice dropping to silence as his sprays cum up onto Reno's open mouth, his chin, all over those hands. It feels incredible, an endless halo of pleasure throbbing in him until it's all over.

The room goes dark. In his mind's eye, it had been brilliant, Reno's face lit professionally by the cinematic soulmate aura.

Now he sees his messy partner dropping his cock to shove his hand into his pants. Rude listens to the wet schlick of Reno using cum as lube and feels the euphoria draining out of him. Reno's beauty seems more uncomfortable in the darkness, the sight of him drenched in semen somehow demeaning.

What was the point when Rude wouldn't please him back? When he didn't want to and had felt relief the moment he saw Reno tend to himself?

Reno comes and makes a quiet sound that could almost be called sweet.

But it's not, is it?

Rude gets up to wet his only wash cloth and gives it to Reno, who gratefully wipes off his hands and the now ruined insides of his sweats before he actually cleans his face. With the same towel.

Rude is a very good friend for not recoiling.

"I should go," Reno says.

Take the whiskey, Rude signs.

"Thanks for the night."

Only once, Rude signs.

Reno has the gall to look bashful about it. It's the cutest he's looked all night. "Yeah. My bad. Worth it. I'll be dreaming about it."

Don't tell me that.

"Sorry," Reno says with a smile, grabbing the whiskey. He's not sorry.

When he leaves, Rude crawls into the shower, turns it onto hot, and sits under the spray.

This might be the worst mistake he's made yet.

Chapter Text

Part of Rude's job as a Turk is to compartmentalize. He's read about it. And he's been okay without it up until now. But the thoughts of that entire day, from blood and brains to a juvenile spritz, fill Rude with the kind of queasiness he can't shake.

He has no idea how to really "do" it other than an elaborate imaginative act, and so he imagines closing the door on that memory, sticking a key in the knob and locking it. He imagines melting the key to magma with his materia. He won't be able to go back in. But it's hard to just turn a part of your mind off. You have to replace it; to replace the memories of execution and of Reno's hands.

His dopamine shot is piercing. He chooses his ears.

He shows up to work with one curved barbell in each lobe. Reno whistles at him when he sees him — Reno often strolls in a little late. Rude sucks his teeth at him in annoyance.

Tseng's voice cuts through their nonverbal greeting. "Both of you. You're late for your appointment at Emilio's. Go."

Reno rolls his eyes at Rude, and Rude gets the keys. They descend to the parking lot, and Rude drives them to Emilio's. It's still in Sector 1: a ritzy, velvet-walled tailor for the rich and powerful.

Reno and Rude get fitted for new suits.

Reno is up first, so Rude sits on the leather tailor's bench behind them and looks anywhere but at Reno.

"You're really not winning me over with the not gay thing," Reno says as the tailor squats at his feet.

Rude glances at him, his mouth pulling into a scowl. Reno standing in front of that triple-split mirror. Four of him. His aura glows softly pink.

Rude's hands move jerkily enough to imply a terse tone. I don't know what you're talking about.

He's never felt more irritated that he can't speak. And he still doesn't know why he can't. Part of him knows it's because he can't let Reno have his words.

But Rude has a working voice. He moaned when--

No, he didn't. Rude threw the memory away. It no longer exists.

"The earrings?" Reno says, as if it's painfully obvious.

Jewelry does not make you gay. Rude tips his head when he adds: Homophobe.

"Well, do you want to come over after this fitting?"

Rude doesn't even respond. He gestures at the tailor doing his best to politely ignore them.

"Is that a yes?"

Rude cuts his hand against his neck for a 'no'.

The tailor quickly stands. "Your cuffs, sir?"

"Yeah fine, sorry," Reno mutters, shoving his hand out to the tailor. He drops the subject but it's painfully quiet after that.

Rude cards through some samples of fabric. He notes that this is more expensive wool with a fine sheen than from his last suit. Upgrades for mental anguish is a corporate mentality. It starts with the high salary and the beating, after all. One can't just be drunk all day to keep the horrors at bay. Everything is replaceable.

Rude gets the attention of the tailor next, and Reno saunters over to the bench of bored wives, lazily draping himself across it with a blatant manspread. It's played off as a sloppy slump, but he still looks predatory. Maybe it's those sunken eyes and thick eyelashes.

'Knock it off!' Rude tells himself. If he gets an erection during a fitting he is probably going to kill himself — or at least run away from Shinra, which is a death sentence at this point.

Reno sucks on his teeth, and then Rude feels the warmth of his apex predator eyes. He turns his head to know he's listening.

"You do look cool though, for an egg head," Reno says.

A compliment and a nose flick. He chuffs, a soundless laugh with a half smile. He can work with that. But he's not going to sit and stare at him be sexy. He's relieved when the tailor has him turn, except then he sees Reno reflected back in the mirror.

Narcissistic prick.

His dick twitches and he shuts his eyes.

The rest of the appointment is quiet.

Reno doesn't bring it up again.

He does sleep around in a way that Rude can't help but see. He can't separate himself from his work partner, but at least when they go to the bar, they start out at the counter and then Rude moves to the pool tables so Reno can go on his hunt for flesh.

Rude is happy to let it happen. Let the separation sink in with finality. Occasionally a pretty girl will flirt with him, and he'll awkwardly sign 'hello' and then it usually goes downhill from there. And that's okay. It's not like he wants to sleep with some girl at the bar and have her see the soulmate tattoo on top of the 'no talking' thing.

He sees how often Reno chooses to go home with Rafe. For some reason, he can't ignore that, can't lock that memory away. Instead he needs that as useful intel. They all work together. Rude needs to know what's going on in his life and Reno's. He envies Reno's ignorance of the entire situation.

Their jobs move on as normal — as normal as any Turk job could be. Rude doesn't get a piercing every time he has to kill somebody. The next time they go out on another execution mission, Reno asks if he wants to get pizza afterward. And they do.

But there are things sometimes that slip past Rude's psyche, destroying the cool interior. The image of Reno shirtless with his abs wrapped in bandages is there. Because of those fucking. Pink. Nipples. How is it that Reno's chest is the one from his fucking fantasies!?

He gets a piercing after that.

Soon enough he's got three in each ear. Trauma from work, frustration from ignoring that call from the bond, spikes of jealousy from Rafe sharing a private joke with Reno in the office, stress from his very existence.

One night he goes to a bar without Reno. He wants to drink alone. This bartender knows him and his orders so he doesn't have to awkwardly point on a menu or write down his drink of choice. When he sits down at the bar, he pulls out his black Shinra credit card, and the bartender exchanges it for his bourbon on the rocks.

He isn't even sure what he's here for. Maybe he wants to feel sorry for himself. Maybe he wants to drink without feeling like it's pathetic to do it holed up at home. Maybe he wants to just not think about Reno for five goddamn—

"Sorry, lady. I can't understand you."

Rude's gaze lifts from the clinking ice in his glass. A beautiful brunette is frowning, cheeks flushed, her hands moving. Can I get a piece of paper? A menu?

Rude's heart starts up like he's got the choke pulled. He snatches the menu of beers, cocktails and spirits from his left and passes it to her.

She looks at him in confusion and tries to mouth, 'thank you'.

He signs clearly, You're welcome.

Her own eyes widen.

"Rude, am I putting this lady's drink on your tab?" the bartender asks.

Rude is going to give this guy a hundred dollar tip. He nods.

Her name is Chelsea. She, unlike Rude, is deaf, but they communicate all the same. It's been a while since he's had a proper conversation like this, but she doesn't seem to notice.

She has soft green eyes and wavy hair which falls over the sides of her face and makes him want to reach out and touch it. He doesn't. Instead, they chat.

She's new to Midgar and has had a hard time connecting with people. Not many use sign language. She had come here much the same as Rude had. Exhausted and sad, wanting to drink alone.

Rude clinks glasses with her for that. It is funny to see his drink next to her bright green appletini, but it's rare for him to have this experience. He treasures it.

At the end of the night, she gives him his number. Neither of them have to say, texting only, because they know. His heart feels warm and light the entire night. When he goes home and crawls into bed, only before he drifts off did he realize he hadn't thought of him.

Only Chelsea.

Chelsea is a private affair.

Rude does not mention his date with Reno. He doesn't mention her at all. He responds to Reno's off color jokes, protects him in the field, and does the paperwork. He's doing all the things that he needs to do for his day job to move on as normal. Reno has tried to keep his canoodling with Rafe out of Rude's sight (not that it stops Rude from Noticing), and so it is Rude's professional duty to return the courtesy.

He wonders if Chelsea would understand the soulmate mark.

He wonders if she would be angry knowing that his non-talking status was essentially self inflicted.

He wonders what the insides of her thighs would feel like.

"Yo, you listening?" Reno asks. Rude simply shakes his head. "Dammit. I knew it. Okay, let me start over." Rude tunes out again.

Chelsea…

He meets her again. There are no parks in Midgar, the air too cloying with mako. He can't bring her to the big tree in the Shinra building, as he wants her far away from that place. Instead he takes her to a cat cafe. They order silly lattes with cat paw foam art and cats approach them.

When a cat perches on Chelsea's lap and purrs hard enough for her to feel it through her leggings, her smile wobbles and a beautiful tear slips out.

Are you okay? he asks.

Yes. This has just been a really lovely day, she says, and her eyes feel endless. Thank you.

He's ready to buy her a cat. He's ready to propose. He needs to get a hold of himself.

He walks her home and she stands at the stoop, not immediately turning to unlock her door. She looks up at him with a tenderness he's unfamiliar with, and it is untainted by that aura he has no control over.

Rude leans down and kisses her, and she opens up underneath him. He might be bad at this, he's never kissed anyone other than his mother on the cheek.

She kisses back. Her face is soft and warm, the opposite to his evening stubble. Her lips are plush and inviting, his tongue sliding between them. Arousal curls inside him, and his tattoo aches.

He pulls back and gazes down at her, his lips twisting into a frown. I have a secret. If I tell you, you might not like me any more.

Her pretty eyes widen like she got hit with a stun gun. Rude has already hurt this woman. He really does suck, doesn't he?

Is it about your job? she asks.

No. Hilariously, lying about his work was a given. He never intended to tell her I'm a hired killer. Thank god he did work for 'Administrative Research'. Nobody cared about the most boring deskjob title imaginable.

Tell me about it inside, she says. Rude doesn't deserve to be invited into her home, but he goes anyway.

She offers him coffee, but he shakes his head and takes off his suit jacket. He takes off his leather gloves, unfastens his tie, and starts to unbutton his black dress shirt.

Whoa! This is moving quickly! Her gestures are large before she rushes up to him, putting her hands over his on his buttons.

He stares down at her fingers, at how much smaller they were than even Reno's.

Something hardens in him, and not in the sexy way. It's not what you think, he says, and continues to unbutton his shirt. He untucks it from his black slacks, pushing it off his shoulders. He stands there in his white under shirt, a thin layer hiding his secrets, if poorly.

The glow of his tattoo emanates from the base of his shirt. The hoops in his nipples protrude near the top.

Chelsea was going to have to learn a lot about him all at once.

I have a soulmate.

She looks genuinely perturbed. Why is he in her apartment if he has a soul mate? How does he have one if he can't speak? All reasonable questions. But she steps closer to him. She presses the palm of her hand against him, low on his abs. Just above the waist of his trousers.

Do you know who it is? she asks.

No, he lies. Someone said it to me in a crowded train station and I lost sight. I couldn't shout out.

He artfully avoids saying 'to him'.

That's awful, she says, her eyes soft. Do you look for her?

The words are embarrassing. I don't.

Chelsea's pretty face turns scrunched in an uncomfortable laugh. She pulls her hand away from him, looking at her own palm with a long, studied gaze.

Then she reaches down at pushes his shirt up, gazing at the tattoo. Despite it all, her lips curve into a smile.

How vulgar, she says.

I wanted you to know.

Rude gazes down at her, wondering what the magic words are. He expects her to ask him to put his shirt back on.

Instead, she leans up on her tip toes and kisses him again.

He walks her back to her bedroom.

Her body feels unfamiliar, but nice. A sweet smelling woman offering up the delights of flesh for the promise of something equally fulfilling. He's not sure he can do that, he has no idea how to make a woman cum. But he kisses her and touches her breasts, and when he's very hard and he slides his middle finger inside her, his mind turns only to himself.

He has a condom in his wallet, so he uses it. And when he presses inside her, it's… nice.

He focuses on how pretty she is, how much she's like the fantasies he'd dreamed up. After twenty minutes of pounding, he has an orgasm.

She doesn't, and she tells him it's okay and normally I have a toy. But she doesn't get up to use it.

He tries fruitlessly not to compare it to the solitary handjob Reno had given him all those months ago.

He kisses her and holds her. After an hour he admits he has an early day at work. He puts his clothes back on and slips out in to the late of night.

The sex was… fine.

Rude is officially not a virgin. Not that he planned on mentioning that to her or anyone else.

When he looks back on the evening, it's tainted a bit. Grayed on the edges, like it's already a hard to reach memory. But that's okay; it means he can fudge the memory. Exacerbate it. About how the sex was so good that after twenty intense minutes, the two of them had an explosive, simultaneous orgasm.

Yeah, sure. Something like that.

At home, he showers. He tries to picture her again. A perfectly pretty woman.

His mind's eye morphs. Shrinking her breasts. Making her already nice nipples pink and small and suckable. Changing her hair color.

His eyes snap open. His dick rages, aching with how unfulfilled it is.

He turns the water to ice cold.

He will overcome this.

Rude knows the real reason the sex was bad: he was a fucking virgin. He knew sex ed, and anatomy, but he doesn't even watch porn. He was bad at the whole thing. He needs practice.

Sometimes Reno would invite him out to the bar still after work. Rude felt a bold wave come over him andd texted Chelsea to meet there.

This time, Rude would be the one chatting with someone else with interest while Reno floundered. His ability to read sign would let him in on the conversation. Rude is embarrassed to admit he craves his partner's attention, even if it's laser eyes at the back of his head.

Reno doesn't even notice that Rude has met her at the door, since he's drinking on his own at the bar. Rude walks Chelsea to the bar and passes her the menu. She gets a bright red drink this time.

As the two walk to a booth with drinks in hand, Reno spots them. Rude can feel his gaze burning in to him. He specifically doesn't turn around, but the feel of jealousy emanating goes straight to Rude's dick.

Chelsea starts off the conversation blandly: How are you?

Rude cuts straight to the chase: Thinking about how I did you wrong.

What do you mean?

Rude pulls his sunglasses off, his gaze pressing into the pretty woman in front of him. Just the intensity causes her lips to part. Under the table, he feels one of her feet slide to the side. Legs opening, he realizes, and with an excited rush he realizes she still wants to try again.

And no one in the bar can read sign language except for the only present Turks and her. So he is blatant.

I want to make you cum. First with my hands. Maybe my mouth, if you'll let me.

Chelsea's cheeks flush deeply.

I should have sat next to you, Rude continues. I could have my hand up your skirt right now.

Her eyes widen. He's about to get slapped, or… She wrings her hands for a moment, and then: How am I supposed to finish this drink now?

Confidence shoots through him. His spine grows thicker, back straighter, chest broader. He glances up and sees Reno staring at them from across the room like a fucking stalker. Reno's aura is positively radioactive.

Rude is getting hard already. Let me take you home. I don't work tomorrow. Leave the drinks.

Chelsea takes one long swallow, a good effort for trying to finish it off, before reaching across the table. Rude holds her hand, his own fingers dwarfing hers. Her hand grows sweaty with nervousness. She's excited.

And so is Rude. As he helps her up and out of the booth, he waves vaguely at Reno (the 'I'm getting out of here to get laid' signal that Reno has given him dozens of times). His partner barely raises a hand in response.

The jealousy is the purest aphrodisiac.

In Chelsea's apartment, he figures her out. He teases her through her soft cotton underwear, his fingertips circling over her. She'd make awkward moaning sounds and her head would shift back and forth, so he stops to sign, Guide me.

Her hand shifts his up a few centimeters, and now the circling causes her to writhe, tipping her neck back.

Giving pleasure is monumentally better than just taking what he wants, he realizes. When he slides fingers into her this time, she's so much wetter. He pulls her underwear all the way off and then takes the time to kiss her mouth and her neck as he learns.

And when she's close, she frantically taps at his arm to continue, to not change, to keep going--

She spasms around his fingers, against his palm, and his cock is aching. He wonders how much he can stand it. Except instead of undressing and fucking her, he undresses her and slides off of her couch to kneel between her open legs.

Later, he'll remember how wet and slow and hot it all felt, how his heart roared with accomplishment about how much pleasure Chelsea writhed in. It dulls the locked away memories, the shape of Chelsea's body filling the gaps in his mind.

Especially when she wakes him up in the middle of the night, sucking his cock. She made him crave it. He cums fast.

"I don't like her," Reno says one afternoon. He wrinkles his nose.

You don't have to, Rude tells him.

Reno squints at him. He doesn't like the answer, either. "Whatever."

Chelsea strokes his jaw in bed. Her words press against his skin. You would look good with a beard.

He raises an eyebrow at her. It will scratch you.

Her cheeks turn red and she nods, biting her lip.

Rude knows he's going to take her advice.

Chapter Text

Turk work picks up drastically.

AVALANCHE cells have popped up all over the city almost overnight. They're spread all throughout the city on missions. Everyone pulls longer shifts. There are a shocking amount of failures, false leads, and balls dropped.

It's getting to Reno, whose tired eyes seem harder lately. Rude admits that he has been ignoring his partner's well being because it's none of his business. While they work together, Reno is an adult man and is more than capable of taking care of himself.

But Rude sees his visible brown roots and he wonders if the sporadic hours are really what's getting to him.

His dates with Chelsea are less often, too. He finally makes time for her on a Saturday night to explain his job is never ending. She doesn't really know what he does, but he casually admits to her that he's never spent so much time in Sector 8, and he never wants to again.

Why not? she asks.

Total dump, he says back, and then distracts her with his hands and lips.

Sometimes the missions are planned for days only for them to arrive and see the entire AVALANCHE storehouse has been cleaned out. This latest one got Reno to punch a concrete wall in rage. He had personally been staking this one out. He was so sure about it, and this flew in the face of his competence.

Rude tries to be supportive, clasping his hand on Reno's shoulder, but Reno jerks away from him. They don't go to the bar together.

The more annoyed Reno gets, the more Rude craves the socialization. The months are getting colder, and if he can't warm up in the bar with the Turks and shots of booze, he can at least go to a nice restaurant with Chelsea and order Hot Toddies.

There's a big job coming up, he tells her one night. But I know it's going to go well.

You do?

I do. I've prepared for a long time. He had.

The job is dangerous. Chelsea thinks he has a big presentation; he knows they are infiltrating an abandoned library. AVALANCHE has been seen going in and out for months. Supplies, training materials, the works. The Turks are going to make a huge arrest. Rude is picturing vacation time after this. A reward for a real job well done.

If Reno behaves, anyway. He has been nearly impossible to communicate with, so Rude has stopped bothering. The day of the mission it will be important to clarify details. He has memorized the map they are using to drop in from the roof. He's timed himself running, opening locks, alerting Public Security & Safety. He is more than ready to get his roses for this complete AVALANCHE takedown.

If. Reno. Behaves.

They stand on the roof. Something feels a little off — both with Reno and the mission. The air is brisk, and snow has been falling all morning. The rooftop is icy, their tell-tale footprints an ominous sign. And there has been very little activity on the pavement below, but that makes sense. A lot of their travel is done at night for obvious reasons.

It makes him nervous. He timed himself running on asphalt, not a slurry of ice and snow. He taps Reno's shoulder.

Reno is staring at the corner of the building.

He taps his shoulder again. He writes the letters into his shoulder: Reno.

Reno doesn't turn.

Tap. Tap. Reno. What the fuck? Rude stands in front of him, blocking his view. Hello? Let's go over the plan again.

Reno looks at him — world tinted blue for a moment — and then away. Reno wrinkles his nose in visible disgust.

Are you serious? Reno, we need to account for the weather.

"Doesn't matter," Reno says.

This is the most important job we've had in a year and a half. Let's go over the strategy.

Reno turns from him again, staring out over the abyss of gray building tops and the green haze of the reactors.

You can't ignore me, Rude signs, even as he's being ignored. His words lost to Reno's suit jacket. Irritated, he shoves Reno's shoulder.

Reno ignores him.

Reason is rapidly leaving Rude's mind. This is no longer about going over the plan. This is now about doing damage control to get their mission back on track. He stalks in front of him and whips his sunglasses off. Don't ruin this for us.

Reno rolls his eyes, like he's offended that this could mean something to Rude. The audacity of it is a gut punch, especially when Reno turns from him again.

Desperation makes the back of Rude's neck feel hot. Rage creeps into his fingers and toes and begin to boil through him. He's never had Reno treat him like this, forcefully ignore him so they would be guaranteed to fail. What the fuck is going on? His signs are big and gestured as he tries to catch Reno's attention. Are you jealous? You on your period? What the fuck is going on?

He doubts Reno even knows what those signs mean. Why would he learn jealousy or period. It's never come up. He's figuratively yelling nonsense at him and it's doing nothing.

Do you want a new partner? You tired of dragging me down?

Reno doesn't even glance at him.

The nerve. Rude's entire life has been shaped by the words coming out of this limp dick's mouth, and now when something finally good could come of it, Reno won't even look at him. He must have seen the shadow of signs or something, because he finally utters, "Pointless because of her."

What the fuck are you talking about? Rude asks. He asks again and again, and Reno's eyes go unfocused, like he's tired of trying to understand.

Listen to me! Rude signs, slow and then bigger, and bigger. Listen! Listen!

Reno's shoulders grow stiff as a board and Rude's fury snaps. He is sure he is going to break Reno's nose when he winds back to unleash his wrath.

Instead of a punch, it's his scream, gutteral and foreign and raw: "Would you l-listen to me!?"

Something changes in Reno's face. The cold gray aura of him explodes in a rainbow of colors, a brilliant mandala undulating for long, hanging seconds. It frames Reno's thin face, stretched long with his mouth open in an exaggerated '0', his icy blue eyes warming to a more tropical color, his cheeks flushing.

"What did you say to me?" Reno croaks. The aura fades into an orange, and then red. It's been a while since Rude has seen Reno furious. Like emotionally explosively furious. Rude's heart is pounding out of his chest. The connection throbs between them.

"I a-asked if—"

"You can fucking talk?" Reno roars, and there's another wave that hits Rude, though this time it is not an aura, but the blowback under their feet. The warehouse trembles beneath them, and then the ceiling shudders as it pulls apart in enormous bursts. Bombs. The building is being demolished. They've been set up.

"Reno!" Rude shouts, diving at his partner to wrap both arms around him as their bodies crash through the debris.

Rude remembers crashing, burning. An empty building loaded with "supply crates", the library drained of any personnel or equipment.

Bombs.

AVALANCHE had known.

But there was a bigger bombshell, wasn't there?

His eyes open. He wishes it was the hospital, but instead it's one of the uncomfortable beds in the science wing. He's not in his clothes, so it's probably the next day.

He signs, Hello? He knows it's so stupid, but his mind is still fogged up. He clears his throat.

Tries.

"H-hello?"

It's him. That's his own mouth. He's speaking.

And he said Reno's words, didn't he?

He pushes himself up out of the bed and makes it to the doorway before a science division intern notices him, startling out of her desk. "Oh! Uh. I didn't expect you up yet. Let me uh, find someone who can um, interpret."

"You d-don't have to," Rude says. His voice is scratchy but otherwise all there. His lips and tongue feel strange, slow and dumb after a decade of non-use, but not useless. The stutter is an annoyance he didn't expect. But his mouth works. If he could use it for pleasure, why not a more useful purpose?

"Oh! Your chart says nonverbal?"

"Something m-must have happened with th-the explosion," Rude says. It's not quite a lie — something did explode inside of himself before the bombs went off. "Wh-where is Reno?"

"The other guy's been discharged already. He had less bumps and bruises than you — you broke his fall, if you can believe it! Let me get you some clothes and you can head down to work."

Rude snorts out a laugh. Building falls on you? Well, sorry that happened, but it's time to get back to work.

"So he's d-down there?"

The intern digs around and offers him a t-shirt and sweats two sizes too big. It makes him look like a gaunt science experiment. He shuffles quickly down to Administrative Research. He has a change of clothes in his desk.

However, Tseng is waiting for him and he is directed straight from the door to Veld's office.

Veld is waiting for him. So is Reno. Rude wishes he had his sunglasses.

Rude sits down in the chair next to Reno who is trying, and struggling, to gray rock him. The color of his aura flickers between gray and red, a smoking fire.

"You colluded with an AVALANCHE agent," Veld says, opening up a file folder.

"That's n-not what happened!" Rude croaks. He can't help but notice Reno flinching next to him at the very sound of his voice. "Why w-would I do th-that?"

"You endangered over six missions by feeding intel to an AVALANCHE agent, Rude. We have surveillance footage."

"That's n-not what we were doing t-together!" Rude snaps.

"What did you do, then?"

His voice grows even more hoarse. "We were ph-physical."

Veld lifts an eyebrow.

"When we weren't d-doing it, it was all p-pillow talk. What did you do t-today. Wh-where did you go. Where are you… g-going…" Realization strikes him and his face falls into his hands. "F-fuck."

Next to him, he hears Reno mockingly whisper: F-fuck!

"Rude, you are on unpaid leave for two weeks. Reno, you'll be cleaning up Rude's mess."

"Gladly," Reno says. He stands, shoving the chair back with a grating squeak.

Rude has to look up, his gaze frantic between the two of them. "Wait. C-can I at least talk to her, ask her—"

"If we see you two together, you will be considered part of the mess," Veld says.

They're going to kill her, he realizes, and a ball of confused emotions moshes around in his chest. Rage that she took advantage of him, fear that he failed at his job, sorrow that Chelsea is going to die, anxiety at how Reno is going to deal with… Everything.

All Rude can do is accept things how they are. Things are painfully out of his control. "Underst-stood."

"Oh, one last thing. We have confiscated your PHS as it not only had communications with her, but she placed a tracker on it. You will receive a new phone when you come back to work. You are to remain separated from every Turk, including Reno, until your return."

This day could not get any worse.

"Dismissed."

Reno is out the door in a flash of ozone. Rude is sluggish, not even going for his change of clothes at his desk. He shuffles out of the office, feeling dozens of eyes on him, judging.

His first "week off" is spent in a depressed daze. He gets no news of what's happened to Chelsea. He has no cellphone. They've stripped his TV channels down to "Shinra sponsored news" and "Old sports reruns". His access card gets him in and out of the apartment section, but he can't even go to the cantina at work.

He's just glad he's not in the dorms any more.

Rude eats boiled eggs or cereal until he drags his ass to the grocery store to get a few staples. He's unpaid, grand salary or not, and his checking account is low. He has to avoid takeout to save money.

When he's not sleeping or eating depression meals or getting black-out drunk on cheap vodka, he works out.

They've locked him out of the gym, too. So he does push-ups and sit-ups and crunches at home. He was running in place until someone slammed on his floor from below; now he goes out for runs, as long as he can, until he's slithering home with barely enough energy to throw himself into his shower.

At least he's bathing.

Sunday rolls around and his life feels bleak. All this time wasted. He could have gone to a library or something. Learned a hobby. Anything.

Someone knocks on his door.

His eyes jerk to the knob, confusion knocking around in his cobwebbed brain. Did he order takeout?

He gets up and pulls on a stained t-shirt. His gray sweats look almost presentable.

He opens the door and it's him. Of course it's him.

Just the sight of Reno makes his heart race, but outwardly he sighs with disdain. "Hi, Reno."

"It's still so fucked up to hear you say my name," he utters with annoyance. "Anyway, way to sound grateful, ya big prick." Reno shoves a warm plastic bag in his hands and it squeaks with the familiar texture of styrofoam.

Takeout! Rude's brain does a flip. "For m-me?"

"Yeah. Figured you'd be holed up in here getting drunk or something."

Rude walks the food to his kitchenette. "Not til 4 PM."

"So disciplined," Reno says, voice nasal. "Well, there's good news. They need you back at work tomorrow. That's celebratory food."

"They?"

Reno rolls his eyes. "We. Whatever. There's a job they specifically need you for, and the fact that you're just trapped in here like..." Reno sniffs a few times. "You sweating to the 80s in here?"

"S-sometimes," Rude says, opening the boxes and feeling a wave of affection come over him at the sight of big, meat-filled dumplings and a thick sauce staring back at him. "How much do I owe y-you for this?"

"Oh, sh-shut up and e-eat it," Reno says, and even with the mocking stutter Rude doesn't feel offended. "Work's been ass. They make me do all the damn paperwork when you're not there to sit there quietly and do it. And that's another thing. How the fuck are you talking?"

Rude's mouth is full, so he signs I don't know even with chopsticks in his fingers. At least he won't stutter that way.

"What the fuck do you mean you don't know? Did you know about me being your soulmate you colossal piece of shit?"

Rude swallows an enormous bite of delicious food. "See, why on earth would I not want to be your s-soulmate?" Rude says as sarcastically as he can.

"I brought you dumplings you fuck face!"

"You're really w-winning me over," Rude adds.

Reno slams the box of dumplings closed. "You've known since you met me because I never stop talking."

Rude swallows, glancing at Reno's hand and the box and then back up at him. "Yes."

"How long ago was that?"

"Shinra c-corporate placements."

"Placements?" Reno asks. "What the hell do you mean? I don't remember you."

"Oh, I remem-member," Rude says, putting down the chopsticks and folding his arms. Reno has refused to open the box, so Rude settles in to tell the tale. "Everyone in that st-stuffy room heard you coming from a mile away. You were loud, obnoxious, p-pushy and m-mean. You elbowed me, said my w-words, and then pushed y-yourself to the front to get your letter. Where you once again loudly announced how d-dumb you were, being furious about administrative res-search."

Reno's mouth opens and then closes. "You told me about this once." His nose scrunches and it is not cute (it is). "Show me the words."

"I'd rather go back to p-pretending you're not m-my soulmate," Rude says.

"Fuck you're being a real dick about this," Reno says. "That shit ain't fair. I'm the other half of this equation, you know. Show me the fucking words or I flush the rest of this food down the toilet."

Lip curling, Rude stands. His hands cross at the bottom of his shirt and he flings it off. His muscular body is on display, as well as the golden glow of Reno's ugly hand writing, an inch or so below Rude's navel.

Outta my way, fatass.

"That's it?" Reno asks. It's a squeak.

"When I got the words I lost a lot of my interests. I became very f-focused on food. F-fitness. I never wanted to be a f-fatass, after all."

"Give me a break."

"I didn't want to talk. I didn't want to have a soulmate who would say such c-cruel things to me. It wasn't... c-conscious. I just s-stopped. My entire life was upended b-because of you and your fucking m-mouth."

Reno stares at him for a long moment. His eyes are frenetic, moving not only around the room but around Rude's body. The words glitter across his lower abs, but even so his body isn't perfect, hard edges. That's not realistic. Despite being muscular, his stomach looks round unless he flexes. His pectorals are defined, but still soft. He hasn't felt self conscious in years, but under Reno's scrutinizing gaze, all the anxiety comes rushing to the surface.

"Your lack of a mouth didn't do me any favors either," Reno says quietly. "Your words are real ironic on someone like me, you know?"

Rude remembers saying them. "Where is it?"

Reno takes off his jacket and yanks his white shirt out of his slacks. He turns around and hoists the shirt up enough to see the words in clear blocky letters directly above Reno's ass: Would you listen to me?

"Imagine craving only one thing in your life, your soulmate. Imagine searching everywhere and needing that physical contact. Imagine every person who fucks you says your words to you." Reno drops the shirt back down, folding his arms and turning away. He actually sounds stung. "Imagine every sleazy prick who's wormed his way into your ass says Would you listen to me? and magically thinks the words will turn even though he already gave me a shitty pickup line. Or he thinks the words will just turn me on, instead of leave me feeling empty?"

Rude's arms stay crossed. It's a sob story. He remains unimpressed.

"Imagine when I see you unwilling to talk to me when literally no one wouldn't? You know how much of an itch you scratched? I wouldn't have to listen to you. Maybe once we slept together you would touch the words and wouldn't say them." Reno laughs, and it sounds tender. Vulnerable.

Rude's heart aches like a stubbed toe. "Imagination is all it is," he says, his voice gravelly.

"Imagine touching your soulmate's dick and not knowing it," Reno says, his laugh turning a little hysterical. "Imagine one night out of every night and one sad handjob is all you keep coming back to and you don't know why. A craving that never goes away."

Rude doesn't say anything.

"Imagine him telling you it's a mistake and then pushing you away, but all you do is think of him, watch him throw everything away for..." Reno goes quiet.

"I'm straight," Rude says. He's trying to be polite.

"Yeah right. Nobody gets a soulmate in the wrong orientation. That shit has never happened."

"There are plenty of e-examples in history b-books--"

"Oh of bachelor roommate soulmates? Give me a fucking break, Rude."

"Well it happened w-with us," Rude says. "N-neither of us got what we wanted."

Reno finally flips around. His teal eyes are fiery -- the look he gives a perp before he traps them in a pyramid and electrocutes them. It's excited him in the past. Now, narrowed in on him, Rude feels frozen like he's already trapped.

"Oh, I'm sorry. What's wrong with me, besides my ass not being good enough for you?"

"I deserve someone g-good," Rude says. He says it like it's true, because he knows it is.

Reno's eyes slowly change. His mouth changes from shocked surprise to a twisted sneer. "Good?" he says, and then laughs. The sound cuts Rude like a knife. "You think that because my first words called you fatass, that you are absolved of sin?"

Rude blinks.

Reno steps forward, barreling through the conversation. "How many people did we kill the week before last?"

Rude's lips part, and then close. He swallows and doesn't answer.

"How many other people's place in the Turks did you take to get this cushy murder job, Rude? How many's social corporate careers did you screw up? How many AVALANCHE babies don't have their stupid ass parents because they showed up when we did too?"

Rude wants to say, It's different. But his morals are being thrown into his face and he can't walk away from it.

"You and I are killers, Rude. We're not soft, we're not going to start families and share photos at the company potluck. We're hired killers and body guards."

Rude presses his lips together, afraid of what might come out.

"Worse than that, though. You knew I was your soulmate. You knew that I was always holding out hope, waiting for mine to show up. You knew where mine was and you lied to me about him. About you. You lied to me to my face for over almost three years. You're a bad person, Rude. Just like me." Reno's sneer is cruel. "We're perfect for each other."

Rude stares at him in horrified silence. That's enough to signal what is racing around in his mind: Reno is right.

"Yeah. That's what I thought," Reno says, and then steps away from him. "See you at work tomorrow. Asshole."

Rude stares after him, at the closed door. Then he opens the container and stares at its sumptuous contents and hates how it's exactly what he wants.

Chapter Text

Rude cleans himself up for his first day back on the job. His beard is immaculate, his sunglasses free of fingerprint smudges, his suit ironed and steamed, his shoes shined, his gloves supple and tight.

Veld tilts his head at him. "It's good to have you back," he says. "Your job is in interrogation room 2. We'll need a full debrief. I want to know where the main cell is. If you can't get an answer, end it."

Rude sighs. They only bring him in when he has to rough somebody up. Reno is way better at these kinds of things — what with his ability to talk — but maybe now Reno is tired of doing all the bad mouthing and wants Rude to do this job for him, too.

Though it's odd. He can't imagine Reno not wanting to do the job.

"Morning, partner," Reno says. He's oddly cheerful. "Got you a latte."

Dread pools in his stomach. Just sixteen hours ago, Reno had read him to filth and left with disgust. Now, he's brought him his morning pick-me-up?

"Thanks," Rude says. He takes it and then turns, walking out of the office and down the hall. He stops outside the one-way glass of interrogation room 2.

Chelsea sits there, hair limp and greasy. He drops the coffee, and it splashes up on his once clean shoes and slacks. "F-fuck!"

Reno slithers up beside him like an insulting shadow. "Oooh. Unlucky." He tut-tuts. "Guess you'll have to get the answers out of her without caffeine. Tough luck, pal."

Reno leans up against the glass, smiling at him.

"What the h-hell is wrong with you?" Rude hisses.

"No, bitch. What the hell is wrong with you?" Reno says, jabbing a finger into Rude's chest. "That lady targeted you in the bar because you were a Turk. She's a fucking AVALANCHE toady and told them every little thing you two did together. You were targeted from day one and the only good thing she did was tell you to grow a beard so you stopped looking like a god damn egg-shaped pinhead."

Rude is grateful for the dark of his sunglasses. "Liar."

Reno presses the manila folder into his hands. "Read it and weep. I was supposed to tell you yesterday, but I knew you would have gone into your little brain and convinced yourself that she's not bad. But she is, just like you. Only she might be worse. You were in it for love. She was in it for the love of her terrorist org." Reno shrugs and turns, shoving his hands in his pockets. "You decide if she's worth your mercy, Nice Guy."

He opens the file and reads it, his heart icing over as he takes it all in.

The goddess of fate hands him a 'nice woman' and it's exactly what he deserves: a lie by omission.

Everything Rude did to Reno was based off of it. He didn't say 'no' to having a soulmate, he just didn't say anything.

He tugs his hands in his gloves, jaw tightening. They didn't need him because of his ability to beat on the suspect. They needed him exclusively for his ability to communicate with her. He straightens his tie, and steps inside to do his job.

Rude thought it would be difficult.

But the woman in front of him is not one he recognizes — spiritually. Her eyes won't move from the desk, so Rude has to sit down across from her and shove his gloved hands into the center of the table.

You've been lying to me.

Chelsea looks up at him then. Her eyes feel dull and dark. She's been imprisoned here for a week. Malnourished, whether it was from her refusing to eat or getting fed poorly. She's tired, but... Your life is a lie, she signs. She remains defiant.

Explain.

No, she signs, and then folds her arms.

Coldness seeps into his heart. She must feel nothing for him if she doesn't want to talk, to beg or plead. It really was all just for the radicals in her organization.

Rude opens his briefcase and pulls out what look like extra large wire cutters. He places them on the table, just out of her reach in chained handcuffs.

Talk, he signs slowly, or I will remove your ability to speak. One by one.

Everything they've ever done to him was a lesson in how to do his job.

I don't believe you. You still love me, Chelsea signs awkwardly.

Rude grimaces when he looks at her and picks up the snips.

Rude does his job.

When she's missing three fingers, she begs him to stop and for a pen.

He gets what he needs.

Rude breezes back into the Turks central office to give the piece of paper with names and an address written down to Veld. The paper is smeared with blood, but Veld is unphased.

"This is simply a necessary confirmation of what we'd already figured out," he says. "You've done good work. And learned a valuable lesson about trust, I assume."

Rude nods, though a strange bashfulness overcomes him at being praised for the dismemberment of someone he'd fucked less than two weeks ago. He stares at the floor, and only then realizes there is still blood splattered on his perfectly pressed jacket and his scuffless gloves.

"Fuck," he mutters, looking at his hands and then up at Veld. "S-sorry. Yes, sir."

"It's a messy job," Veld laughs. "But I'm tired of surprises. From you in particular. Will there be any more, Rude? Tell me right now."

Do the torture interrogation. Get interrogated right after. Hiding from Veld is a bad idea. A very bad idea. "Reno's my s-soulmate," he blurts out.

Veld gazes at him for a long moment before the corner of his mouth tilts up in a smirk. "Oh, I know. He's been complaining about it non stop. Everyone in the office knows."

His face feels very hot, embarrassment flaring up in his guts. "F-fuck."

"It's been a long week for you," Veld says, wiggling a pen at him. "But now that we've cleaned up loose ends, this is a chance for you and your partner to return to normalcy."

"Is it possible? To b-be soulmates, and work partners, and have it be n-normal?"

"Well, it's never happened before," Veld admits. "But it's a win for the cohesiveness of the team. And it's not like Reno hasn't already fucked everyone else his age."

Rude's fury is hidden behind the sunglasses. "We aren't d-doing that."

"I just mean, you don't have to worry about HR problems. The Turks have enough problems."

"You won't have to worry about that with Reno and m-me, sir."

Veld gazes at him for a long moment. "Good. Dismissed — and take your jacket down to the lobby. Vanessa can get that dry cleaned for you discreetly."

Rude peels off his suit jacket, bows his head, and then leaves. He practically storms through the main office, and only hears Reno say, "Hey Rude!" as he's striding through the door.

He doesn't stop, and in fact makes it onto the elevator with enough time to see it close right as Reno scrambles up to catch it. Rude exhales, standing quietly in the elevator with his blood stained jacket folded over his arm as he ascends to the ground level.

Rude stops at the reception desk and hands over the jacket. "I need this spot t-treated. Now." Then he hears the loud creak of the stairwell door opening and spots bright red hair.

"Rude! You are the worst!" Reno pants, clomping over to him. Vanessa takes the jacket with an awkward nod and disappears through an office door.

"I just wanted to talk to you and you take off!"

"S-sorry. I wasn't p-paying attention," Rude says.

"Sure," Reno says, lifting an eyebrow. He gestures at the escalators that go up to the cafeteria and mezzanine. "You want to go get coffee?"

Rude exhales sharply and starts walking. "You're buying."

"Why?" Reno follows.

"You t-told everyone about it!"

"'It'? You mean that you're my soulmate? Fuck yes I did. You have got to be dumb as fuck to assume I'm capable of keeping that to myself for more than twenty minutes. I've been waiting a long ass time, Rude. So for this outcome? Especially with you being such a fucking dickhead about it? Yeah. I'm gonna complain. Because everyone's gonna want to know why the fuck I've been such a dickhead to everyone else by proxy! Your dumb attitude is contagious and it's fucking up my cool vibes!"

They arrive at the coffee shop, where the cashier is trying visibly to ignore that she could hear half of that conversation. "Red eye," Rude says.

Reno elbows past him and offers up his card. "Two, but make mine iced. And a bunch of milk. Thanks, toots."

Rude stares at him and hates how easy it is for a bolt of affection to hit him, fast as a lightning strike.

Out of habit, Rude signs thanks, and he catches Reno rolling his eyes at him. "I'm still mad at you."

Rude wants to laugh. He cannot believe that the situation ha been flipped on its head so quickly. Reno has always been the bad guy, the impolite man, the acid tongue.

But Rude's nature is baked into his very name, isn't it? Just moments ago he had removed fingers from the very woman he'd lost his virginity to.

A wave of queasiness hits him. "You should be," Rude says. "I need to sit d-down." He doesn't look toward his partner, instead finding an empty booth in the dark corner. The actions he'd taken had felt so cold and sterile. The way she screamed hadn't bothered him in the moment, but now, after, as he looks at his own hands, his only method of communication for so long—

"Hey," Reno says softly. Rude lurches out of his reverie to see Reno standing over him with their coffees. "You thinking about it?"

Rude grunts out an affirmative and takes a tentative slurp of the hot drink. Its bitterness is a relief, a flash of new sensation that clears the palate of his mind.

"I was watching," Reno says. "You remember, when they--"

"They beat us and they b-broke my fingers," Rude says. "Yeah, I know."

Reno sits across from him, frowning. He pinches the straw inbetween his naked fingertips and swishes the drink around noisily, ice and coffee sloshing around in Rude's brain.

"Do you," Reno says and clears his throat. He's staring down at his coffee. "Do you see weird colors? Around me."

Hot embarrassment floods him, Rude's cheeks becoming hot as he realizes too late that as much as he has seen Reno's aura, Reno can see his too. "Y-yeah."

"How long?"

"S-since you s-said the words," Rude admits.

Even if Reno's cheeks are pink, the aura is purple. Rude wonders if they look the same.

"Then you've seen mine for years," Reno whispers in horror. "Fuck me that's… That sucks, dude. There are so many layers to how much this sucks. How much you suck." Reno pulls the straw out and pushes it back down in rapid succession, the aggravating squeak of plastic on plastic filling the air. He starts laughing. "Oh my god. How many times have you actually known what I was thinking. You fucking dick."

Rude clenches his jaw for a moment to reflect. He takes a long sip of his coffee. "Yeah… It's b-bad. I'm sorry."

Reno presses his face into his hands. "Well do you know what the colors mean?"

"Sometimes," Rude says. "I t-tried not to think about it too much. I spent so m-much time turning every feeling I had into nuh-negativity..." He swallows. Neither of them can look at each other. "I tried not to. Look at you too much. Either."

He failed at that, too.

"Why not?" Reno asks defiantly, turning his head up to look at him. But Rude still couldn't meet his eyes, even behind the sunglasses.

Because you're not what I want, Rude thinks, and doesn't want to say the words out loud. A part of him is afraid if he says it out loud, it will sound like a lie.

"What's the p-point? I'm straight, you're not. Hurts us b-both to linger." Rude stares back at his coffee.

"You still really believe that?" Reno asks in a huff. He gets up, snatching his coffee. "Well fine then. If that's how it is, then that's how it'll be."

"Reno," Rude says, his voice crumbling.

"Bye," Reno states, and then stomps away from him.

Rude watches him, the tenderness of their interaction emptying out until he sits hollow with his rapidly cooling coffee. His mind fills with memories and despair. This time, Reno does not return to save him from his thoughts, and he is too deep in them to truly think: what is it I want?

Rude struggles on his own.

At work he's able to catch up on paperwork — the reports Reno put together were mostly unusable and Rude is happy to fix a lot of the errors. He's also sure to emphasize both their fuck-ups, instead of only Rude's. Veld is happy to see the paperwork done correctly, but Reno isn't.

Reno has in fact been spending his time with Rafe. The jealousy makes Rude ache, but it's what's best. Rafe is everything that Rude is not. All that fancy spiked hair, the facial tattoos (definitely Reno's vibe), two guns. Impersonal and sexy. Sleek and lithe. Bisexual at the very least.

The opposite of Rude's big bald heterosexual bulk. Rafe and Reno talk, too, with Reno cracking jokes and Rafe rolling his eyes and slyly grinning back. It makes Rude feel seasick every time he sees them together. It's worse seeing that tender pink aura pulse around him if they ever got too close. Rude still isn't sure if that's lust or love, but it pisses him off all the same.

He hides on balconies with cigarettes. He hides in the gym with a heavy bag, punching and crushing down feelings. He hides in bottles of cheap bourbon at the end of long, lonely days.

When the pain is overwhelming he goes to the piercing studio and wonders what to do. What pain will help cover up the emptiness of his soulmate, as well as the evil that he did to Chelsea?

The needle and metal feels good when it goes through his tongue. His mouth swells and he could probably heal it with materia, but instead he goes to work and can't talk.

That morning he knocks on Reno's desk and signs: Want to get coffee?

Reno looks up at him with an irritated glance. "I can barely remember what that crap means now."

It's not been long. Reno didn't forget. He's being mean.

"Mouh woh-wen," Rude says. Mouth swollen. Then he signs again: coffee?

"Can you even drink it with your busted ass mouth?"

Rude makes fun of himself a bit, miming a bendy straw and taintly pursing his lips to suck at it.

Reno stares at him and chokes out a laugh; it's mocking enough to make Rude still feel cold. "Yeah, fine. What the hell did you do? Bite your tongue?"

Jewelry, Rude signs.

"Huh?"

He opens his mouth. His tongue is huge, swelling up in his mouth. And in the top, a steel colored ball that's indented deeply in it.

"Man, what the fuck." Reno's cheeks go red and he turns away. "Pissing me off on purpose?"

It has nothing to do with you, Rude signs.

"Yeah, right. Everything you do is some plot against me, isn't it?" Reno says, annoyed enough for it to sound like he believes it's true.

That stops him in his tracks. His hand squeezes Reno's shoulder. No. It's not like that.

"Yeah, whatever. Rafe knows your type," Reno says. Hearing the other man's name makes Rude's spirits drop. "He's told me all about you."

I don't know him at all.

"That's cause he knows it'd be a waste of time."

Reno orders his coffee first and doesn't pay. Rude shyly writes down what he wants from the cashier and then pays for both drinks. When Reno's comes up, he takes it and walks away.

Rude sighs, shoving a bendy straw into the lid of his iced coffee and sips daintily. One sting of pain and he realizes he can't even use it with the fresh piercing, and cracks open the plastic lid to shamefully slurp, alone.

Chapter Text

He's able to talk a day later, but communication continues to break down in a way he can't control. They go on missions, but Reno is starting to ignore him again. He's addicted to his phone — text messages with stupid Rafe — and leaving Rude to sit and twiddle his thumbs on a stakeout.

He should have brought a book. Reno's act of ignoring is palpable, a purposeful point made at how Rude does not deserve his presence. He's probably not wrong. Rude has been rude. Blunt and dismissive of Reno as a person for most of their professional relationship, except for those moments where he... took advantage of Reno's attraction.

"Please t-talk to me," Rude says softly, his gloved fingers flexing on the steering wheel. The car is mostly off, the key turned just to run the soft hum of radio.

"In the middle of something," Reno replies. Tap tap tap tap.

"I didn't mean t-to offend you."

Reno sneers out a laugh, and Rude gulps.

"I d-don't even really know what I d-did."

Reno does not look up from his phone, but he mutters, "Not doing yourself any favors here."

"I just didn't want you to have f-false expectations and it c-came out wrong."

Finally Reno turns the phone over, its screen pressed into his unironed dress shirt. "Oh? That's it? So what's the problem? You're not interested in me, I am interested in the person I'm trying to talk to. Why didn't you bring a book or something since you could actually be interested in that!"

Rude winces. Thank god he didn't bring a book. Reno would have turned that against him, too.

"I'm sorry," Rude says, and can't think of anything else to say to defend himself. He's terrified of misstepping.

"At least you finally apologized, fuckin mute mountain," Reno mutters. "Apology not really accepted. You know I'm your type."

"Reno, this isn't fair," Rude whispers. I can't change who I am, he thinks.

"Oh, it's not fair for you?" Reno hisses. "Man, fuck this. I need a cig break." He shoves his phone into his pocket and then opens up the passenger door, swinging out and slamming the door shut in two smooth moves.

Outside, Rude catches the sight of a flare of fire as Reno lights up a cig. Then there's noise, the loud nasal of his voice on his phone.

He's called Rafe and is ranting at him about Rude at this very moment. And Rude should get up and slap the phone out of his hand, remind him that he is on the clock and that they're looking for someone in particular and if he makes a ruckus they'll get spooked.

But the self loathing is at an all time high for Rude, who knows that all of Reno's anger at him is well placed, and he has no idea what to do with it.

At least the angry voice of his partner outside the car gives him something to listen to, to focus on, until it goes suddenly quiet.

Rude looks through all the windows, but does not see Reno. He pulls out the keys and slips out of the car. "Reno?" he whispers into the night. He circles around the car and spots a half-smoked cigarette still burning on the ground.

"Reno?" he calls, louder this time. He hears the shuffling of boots, and he turns his head. No visible movement, but there's a splatter of blood on the pavement. Rude's adrenaline spikes, rushing forward to it as though he would have any way of knowing it was Reno's.

But there, two feet away, another splatter. They've left him a trail, whether it was Reno or his captors. Rude dashes after it, down an alleyway where there is only one door. It has an electronic keypad on it and, to add insult to injury, an 'A' spray-painted on the door.

The stake out was three blocks away. They weren't even looking in the right place before, and now...

Rude winds back his fist and slams it into the electronic keypad. It fizzles, but does not open, a twist that he frankly wasn't expecting. He just assumed it would open, and so he smashes his fist down from the top, knocking the lock askew but not free. The little metal device mocks him, hiding his partner behind it.

Fury fills him, a basic cast of Fire combining with his fist to blow a hole in the door at the lock.

With nothing keeping it in place, Rude yanks it open, the heavy door slamming hard against the outside of the building. "Reno!" he yells.

The sound of scuffling floats past him, and Rude hunts for it. They know he's here, they already have Reno. Subtlety is no longer necessary. And then he sees five figures pour into the hallway.

They have guns, but Rude barely notices. These are the bastards that snatched Reno straight off the street. They must have gagged him, as he still hasn't heard any cries for help. He slams two of them together, their rifles clattering to the ground. Another he sends into a wall with one devastating punch to the chest. One shoots his pistol at Rude and misses every shot, making it easy for Rude to walk up to him, yank the gun out of his hand, turn it around and use the last bullet to his face.

He's definitely going to kill all of them.

Two remain, glancing between each other and then diving back into the room they came from. Rude dashes after them, rolling into the room to avoid gunfire when he sees him.

Reno on his ass, hands behind his back, red blossoming from his suit and bubbling out of his mouth. His mouth, open and moving, his adam's apple bobbing, no noise coming out.

They silenced him.

Something breaks in Rude. He's hit his absolute limit with these fucks, his own pressure from screwing up his friendship, the fear of how injured Reno is. His hands fly above his head and clasp, fire and stones thrashing from his feet and whipping around him. His mouth opens and he roars, the rage and strength in him exploding as he slams his fists down onto the warehouse floor.

An eruption of jagged, molten rock spikes up in a line straight to the last two toadies. They fly in opposite directions, one careening through the air and impaling himself on a bar sticking out of the wall. The other lands on the ground near Reno.

The rock subsides as the materia's magical flare up diminishes, but Rude's focus is on the remaining man. He drops down, knees straddling the enemy's shoulders, and punches him in the face. He does it again, and again, and again, until the blood splatters, until teeth loosen, until he's punching grows soft and malleable and the burbling of desperate breaths no longer drips into the air.

And then Rude shoots up. "Reno!" Reno, who's gazing at him in disbelief, his mouth still moving. "F-fuck. Sorry. I sh-should have..." His hands are soaked in blood. Using his teeth, he yanks one glove off for a clean hand and pats down his jacket for a first aid pack of status tabs. "M-mouth open."

Reno stops 'talking', instead just letting his tongue loll out. Rude presses the tab of echo screen onto Reno's tongue with his clean bare thumb, and it melts in an instant.

"Rude," Reno croaks.

Rude is still panting. The air is thick with the smell of blood and gunpowder. Adrenaline and relief course through Rude's body like he's speedballing it. He drops to his knees in front of him, grabbing Reno's shoulders with one stiff shake. "Reno," he says, and then yanks him forward in a kiss.

Reno's mouth tastes like iron. His lips fit perfectly against Rude's. Rude can't see so much as feel their auras spiraling and bursting as his tongue slides into Reno's mouth.

Reno shoves him away with his right hand, staring at him with wild, terrified eyes.

"Let's get you out of here," Rude says, the rhythm of his words easier.

"I'm still," Reno says, his entire body trembling, "fucking mad at you."

He feels frail. Rude adjusts himself, scooting one arm under Reno's legs and hoisting him up. "I'm an asshole and you should be," Rude agrees. "What did they do to you?"

"Silenced. Stabbed. Broke my hand," Reno hisses. He clutches his left hand close to his chest.

"I don't have Cure," Rude says. "I'm taking you to corporate."

"Don't let them take my hand," Reno says. He sounds sleepy.

Rude knows saying Don't fall asleep isn't going to work. He makes his way out of the building, out of the alleyway. Reno's phone is on the ground, cracked and beaten like someone had smashed it after Rude had gone looking for him.

He makes it back to the car and gets Reno in the back seat. He doesn't do it often, but as he glances back at his partner in the rear view mirror, he prays.

His mouth tingles.

The next day, Reno shows up at work in a t-shirt, sweat pants, and an awkward cast that has turned his left (and dominant) hand into a stone mitten.

Tseng visibly recoils from him, and Veld tuts the second Reno appears. "Dress code has zero exceptions, Reno."

Reno's voice is cracked. They stitched him up, but Cure was not a part of the protocol. Rude knows that under that t-shirt is bandages from the stabbing he'd talked about. "I got one hand, boss."

"Doesn't stop me from being professional," Veld says.

"Your other hand is not only a hand, it's a robot hand!" Reno cries.

Rude hates that this argument is happening in the bullpen and wants to sink under his desk.

"What I'm hearing is that you need help and refuse to ask for it," Veld says. "Rude. You'll need to pick up your partner's slack. Help him get dressed. You'll both be penalized if he misses work and if he looks like a vagrant. Do you understand me?"

"What?" Reno croaks.

Rude can feel the flush from his cheeks to his neck. Sometimes Veld was a real freak about things like this. It was a punishment. There had been a lot of brains to clean up at the scene of the incident.

"Do you understand me?" Veld repeats, slower.

"Yes, sir," Rude and Reno say in unison.

Reno is furious, but it's clear he's struggling to get around. It's horrendous they didn't give him leave for this and barely any healing. It hardens his resolve that he needs to get clearance for Cure. The 'connection' Reno had once had was no longer available.

"I'm happy to help," Rude says as he follows Reno's struggling steps to the locker room. There are spare suits there, hardly any better than Reno's t-shirt and sweats, but one must keep one's crazy boss happy.

"I'm fucking not," Reno mumbles, shame coloring his words.

"When my hand got fucked up, I wish I had asked for more help," Rude says. They make it into the locker room and Rude snatches one of the clothing kits. These button downs were thinner material than their nice custom suits, but it would suit dress code.

Reno stands in embarrassment. "I can't even fasten my fucking pants. It's why I wore one with an elastic waist." His tone turns whiny, humiliation growing. "Why is Veld being such a dick?"

Rude pulls the t-shirt off of him in one swift movement. Reno stares at him, frozen, as Rude pulls the button-up over one arm and then carefully maneuvers his cast through the other sleeve.

"Veld is under immense pressure from the president, and probably Heidegger," Rude says as he efficiently buttons up the shirt. "So in order to feel bigger than that whale of a man, he has to treat us like shit."

Reno lifts an eyebrow at him. "Listen to you," he says, suspicion coloring his tone.

Rude pulls the sweats down and pretends it's normal as he kneels on the ground, allowing Reno to step out of them. He thinks professional thoughts as he gets Reno to step into the nicer pair of slacks. He pulls them up and spends a solid thirty seconds psyching himself up to fiddle with the button to close it up.

Reno, thankfully, can zip up his own zipper.

"I can help you with other stuff. For a while," Rude says, noting that Reno's own shoes were untied and he hadn't even noticed until he drops back down to tie them both. "I'll cook."

"I can order my own food," Reno huffs.

"You can't cut a piece of chicken with one hand. I'll help you."

"I don't want--"

"Please let me make it up to you," Rude says quietly. He stands and presses his hand into Reno's shoulder. "I've been an asshole to you."

"You kissed me," Reno says.

Rude presses his lips together. "Nn."

"Did you mean it?"

Rude looks away. He doesn't know. He has no idea what came over him. It was a stupid lapse in judgement, it wasn't real, it—

"That's what I fucking thought," Reno whispers, trembling. "You can buy my groceries. Once."

It's a lot to come back to Reno's apartment. He hasn't spent a lot of time here. Reno hasn't done much to spruce it up (not that Rude had, either). There are few dishes, no art, no furniture outside of what was provided. It feels like Rude's dorm room was when he'd first been admitted to the academy.

Rude opens up Reno's fridge to place the groceries he'd bought. Chicken breast, ground beef, some vegetables, citrus, cream, herbs & seasonings. He also stuffs a few frozen pizzas into the freezer, but not before opening one side to make them easier to open on his own.

"Feels surreal," Reno says, standing awkwardly behind him. "Everything that's happened. What's happening now."

"Despite my boring diet, I can cook," Rude says.

"I still can't believe you can talk," Reno murmurs. "That you're my soulmate. That you knew, and hid it from me. That you keep saying such mean shit to me. Did you even realize you're not even stuttering anymore?"

Rude frowns, turning from the kitchen to face his partner. "I didn't—"

"Take 'em off," Reno says.

Rude pulls his sunglasses off and tucks them into his jacket pocket. He can't help but level his eyes on Reno's. They're so pretty. Maybe Rude isn't attracted to men in general, but Reno's beauty is different. And the stutter stopped after Rude kissed him. Every time he's gotten closer to Reno in some way, a part of him has healed.

He's been so stupid. The man in front of him is so handsome that it makes his palms clammy. His slim face is undeniably masculine, sharp cheekbones and sunken eyes, thin lips. But there's something sweet about him that makes Rude want to press his thumbs into those cheeks; slide his fingers around the back of his neck and up into that red hair.

He thinks about how he still has to unbutton Reno's shirt and slacks.

"I thought what I was doing was what was best for me," Rude says, stepping bravely forward until he is close enough to Reno to reach the placket of his shirt. First, he pulls his gloves off and tucks them into his other pocket, shouldering out of his jacket. He throws it on the back of a chair, and then faces him again.

"When it comes to what is best for me, it turns out I know less than I thought." His bare fingers slide over the material of Reno's shirt and then slowly unbuttons each one. It's awkward from this side, but he has to give it his full attention, lest his mind wander. "And I'm sorry. I've said a lot of things that were blunt. Even wrong."

Reno worries at his bottom lip. "What do you mean by that?"

Rude unbuttons the last one before moving to the cuffs, and carefully slides the shirt over each arm and the cast on his hand. Reno stands in front of him, shirtless, and Rude struggles not to look at his sweet pink nipples.

"I called you bad things," Rude says. "If I ever meant them, I wouldn't mean them now."

"Can you unfasten my pants and let me change, now?" Reno asks breathlessly.

Rude reaches out and uses all the strength left in his spine to only unfasten the button. Then Reno turns from him, shimmying out of his pants, his shoes, and wiggling into the tee and sweats from the morning.

Rude focuses very hard on cooking up dinner. He puts a few of the dry staples (rice, pasta, flour) away, and then works on a one pot meal.

Fully dressed, Reno sits in the chair with Rude's jacket over it. "Rude. Whatever you want, whatever this is," Reno says. He clears his throat. "It's too late."

A chill zips down Rude's spine, but he remains cool. "Mm?"

"I'm with someone else. We're… He'll be pissed off you kissed me. So you can finish dinner, and you can have your gold star for buying me groceries. But this is the last time."

Rude stares down at the wooden spoon, at the rice grains floating in chicken broth and bits of onion, and it's hard for him to focus.

"You hear me, man?" Reno asks.

Rude's heart pounds fast. He's spent years ducking and weaving around the goddess only to have her practically hurl the two together, and now that Rude is finally coming to terms with what it all means… Heard, Rude signs. He doesn't trust how dry his throat feels to speak.

"Good," Reno says, and Rude hears the strain. But he can't turn. He doesn't even want to know what color that aura is. He finishes up the meal, puts the lid on it, and then slips out of the apartment. Neither of them even say goodbye to each other.

The connection between them feels torn open and sore, and Rude doesn't know how to deal with things in many ways other than compartmentalization and violence. He doesn't feel like going to the gym for a punching bag.

What he wants to do is likely to get him permanently fired. So instead he goes to the piercing studio again.

He's already filled out his ears, his nipples and his tongue. He asks them what else they can do.

He discovers what a prince albert is, and that the studio has a policy of not allowing anyone to get one unless they provide their own Cure.

Rude is filled with resolve. He's getting that materia tomorrow.

The next day, work becomes hell. Rude is struggling to look anywhere other than Reno's chest, visible with his white button down barely fastened and his jacket buttoned just below that. "That's not—dress code," Rude says. His mind is warring with itself. Disappointment threatens to swallow him whole, but the sight of that chest is letting him breathe.

"Nah, fuck Veld. I'm in the shirt, I'm in the suit jacket," Reno says, spreading his hands — the cuff links are undone around his cast, but otherwise he does look well put together. "I'm up to snuff on his dress code. And as you can see, I did it without your help. So."

Rude stares at him. Reno gazes back at him passively. He is somehow genuinely neutral.

"Oh," Rude says. The sadness sneaks up on him. His fate has finally settled.

The worst part is how pretty Reno looks. Practically glowing. Without Rude's help.

"I have some paperwork I have to do," Rude says, and disappears on his own to fill out a stack of requisition papers.

Rude gets his Cure, but he chickens out on the prince albert.

Instead, he attempts to woo Reno at work.

Rude leans over to Reno's desk, murmuring. "I can help with your hand, finally. If you want."

Reno stares at his phone, held clumsily in his right hand. "Dunno what you're talking about."

Rude taps his slotted gloves. "Cure. Whenever."

Reno looks up at him and the expression is… difficult to read. The aura flashes in confusing combinations he's never seen before. "I'm… I'm okay, thanks," Reno says.

Rude is stunned to silence. He would rather keep a broken hand than accept Rude's very basic help? It had already mirrored the break in his youth, but it didn't make any sense for Reno to actively draw out his own torture.

Something must be wrong, Rude thinks, his eyes narrowing in on Reno behind the sunglasses. That is when he notices the bruise peeking out of Reno's collar.

There's another one, even lower. Rude's grits his teeth as he realizes that Rafe had left his mark on purpose. He sunk his little rat teeth into Reno's tit and marked it.

And Reno wants to keep the marks. More than he wants to fix his hand.

Rude's blood boils.

"You're serious?" Rude says, his words hoarse and jagged.

"Yup," Reno says, popping the word. The aura flashes in a way that makes Rude queasy. He knows he's stewing in visible jealousy of his own, but Reno is ignoring him. Crushing the bond as a punishment, and Rude is left to stand by and accept it.

It saps his willingness to talk to Reno.

But not his willingness to talk.

Rude gets up from his desk. He readjusts his sunglasses, letting a sense of calm fill out the spaces in his spine. His posture straightens. He's on a mission.

On his way out of Administrative Research, he passes by Rafe's desk. He had no partner — in fact, only Rude & Reno were the only designated pair. It meant it was a little harder to track down where Rafe could be, but he had no mission briefings spread haphazardly over his space.

If not in the field, then where would Two Guns be?

Rude takes the elevator to the gun range. He exchanges his suit jacket for ear protection and a pistol before stepping inside to see one man holding two guns at the far end of the range.

Rude's mind is crystal clear, sharply aware of the lonely state. No one else is near the range.

The guns fire. Rafe doesn't turn his head. He has ear protection on too, and he is enrapt in his own world.

Rude can't imagine entering a flow state with guns, but a few months ago he couldn't imagine psyching himself up for the conversation he's about to have, either.

He steps into the lane directly to Rafe's left. Rude empties the clip into the paper target. While Rafe's bullets are spread in a clear pattern of diagonals to train his accuracy, Rude's are all perfectly centered on the head.

"Well if it isn't the soul mute himself," Rafe says, spinning the guns. He slips them into the holsters under his pits with practiced ease, and Rude squints behind the sunglasses.

Rafe is shorter than him. Is he even taller than Reno? Pathetic.

"I have business with you," Rude says, putting the gun down on the table in front of him. Without his suit jacket, he knows his body will bulge beneath the fabric. It's easy for him to appear even larger than life. The buttons squeak with tension as his shoulders spread in a shrug. "Private business."

Rafe rolls his eyes. The exuberant tattoo on his face should show how strong he is; his pain tolerance is immense. Yet Rude finds it quaint. Tacky. "Sure. You collecting for the Shinra bake sale?"

"Stay away from Reno," Rude says. His voice is flat, unflinching, unstuttered. His head slowly tips.

Rafe balks. It twists into an incredulous laugh. "Be fucking for real," he snaps, shoving a hand through his spiked black hair. He looks away from Rude, visible irritation showing in bulging neck veins. "Reno chose me. He's my boyfriend, so you can fuck off."

Rude slowly folds his arms. "He's my soulmate."

"Oh, believe me. I fucking know," Rafe snarls. "I've had to listen to that little prick complain night and day about how you wouldn't fuck him. Since long before this soulmate bullshit was even on the table."

That catches Rude off guard and causes him to smirk. "So. Back off."

"Absolutely fucking not," Rafe says, taking a step closer to him. He's puffed up, but Rude could crush this brat's skull in his hands. "I'll fuck whoever I want to fuck."

"Reno is mine," Rude says. His voice is a growl. "He doesn't even want you. He wants me. He has always wanted me." When the words come out of his own lips, it makes enough sense to feel like a gut punch.

Holy shit. Reno has always, always wanted him. Until now. Until it was too late.

"You seem like a good Turk," Rafe says, pulling the guns from his holsters. "But I will fuck you up easy."

You're a bad person. Just like me. We're made for each other.

"You're only hurting yourself, Guns," Rude says, closing the distance between them. His folded arms press against Rafe's chest. The barrels of the guns press into his abs. An electric thrill courses through him.

"Always knew you were dumb as fuck," Rafe says.

Rude listens to one of the safeties click off before his head whips forward, catching Rafe in a headbutt. It's a sharp crack, disorienting enough for Rafe to fall backwards. He's knocked against the wall and then floor, one gun shooting a solitary bullet into the floor.

Rude tosses his ear protection onto Rafe's crumpled body. He'll come back to awareness in a few minutes. For now, it's easy for Rude to slip out and grab his suit jacket. He lets Veld know he's going out on solo recon, and Veld barely acknowledges him.

He's in a much better mood the rest of the day — enough to encourage him to go back to the piercing studio.

He can tell that the girl putting a needle through his dick is impressed. Later, after he's paid and cast Cure, she slips him his number.

He burns it. Rude has never been more sure about who it is he actually wants.

Rude gets a text message at 7:03 AM from an unknown number.

He screamed my name this morning, it reads.

His phone pings again with a second message.

He took me raw.

Rude's jaw and fists clench. His heart swells with jealousy and some other hot, twisted feeling he can't investigate right now.

He dresses fully for work, gloves and all, in only a few minutes. Then he is out his front door, not to work, but to Reno's apartment.

All Rude can hope is that Rafe has already left. Otherwise he's going to kill someone before breakfast, and Rude is not interested in ruining the most important meal of the day.

He knocks on Reno's door — a soft, unassuming knock. Rafe is easy to replicate.

Easier to replace.

The door cracks open. "Rafe?"

Rude frowns at the sound of that tiny man's name on Reno's lips. He yanks the door open all the way, and Reno stands there in boxer briefs and an oversized t-shirt and a confused, panicked expression.

The aura flashes more confusing colors. Rude barely acknowledges it. "So he's left already," he states gruffly.

"Uh, what the fuck?" Reno laughs nervously. "That's none of your—"

Rude pushes into Reno's personal space. "It's his cologne I've been smelling," he says.

Reno stares at him. Rude doesn't have any idea what Reno is thinking, but he also doesn't care. Just being so close to him is heating up his body. Jealousy burns hot in his chest, flames tickling in his heart. Reno turns away from him in an act of defiance, but Rude steps up behind him. His hands land on either side of Reno's waist.

"Rude, you need t-to, ah." Reno can't string a sentence together, and Rude tugs Reno's body close. Reno gasps, his voice feathery.

Rude's nose presses down into the space between Reno's neck and shoulder. "You smell better here," he says. His words are voiceless, a rough whisper that makes goosebumps rise wherever Rude touches him. "Are you still soft and wet from him?"

"Wha…" Reno is trembling hard under his hands. They are so close that there's no aura to see — theirs have combined, spreading beyond either's perception. Reno still has a cast on his hand, but that is his only weakness. He would have no problem pushing Rude off and away if he actually wanted to.

Confidence goes straight to Rude's dick. He pushes Reno forward until Reno's good hand meets the wall, Rude behind him.

"You heard me," he murmurs, his gloved fingers tucking into either side of the waistband of Reno's boxer briefs. It's not just confidence; something else is at work, a biological need that Rude has never felt so strongly. There's a yawning ache inside him that yearns to be fulfilled, and he'll do anything to close the gap. Reno's mouth is open and he's gasping, but he's unable to squeak out a word.

"Don't be embarrassed," Rude continues, and pushes the boxer briefs down over the rise of Reno's ass. He's not voluptuous by any means, but his slim body sets Rude's heart on fire. "I'll clean you up."

Rude slides to his knees. In front of him is Reno's ass, and at his thighs, the wet trickle of someone else's cum. He tucks his sunglasses into his jacket. Both hands grab either side, spreading cheeks, and Rude's tongue laps over the hole, still soft and wet, as he'd suspected.

"Oh my god," Reno cries, and Rude loses his ability to think about anything else.

It doesn't even matter who was here before. Rude's fingers grip hard as his tongue slides in and out of him, licking and teasing and groaning in to the warmth he's longed to bury himself in for as long as he's lived. Rafe's traces are there, but Rude is rapidly removing them. As he licks and teases, Reno's balls tap his chin.

His face is buried in another man's ass and it's the best he's ever felt.

His cock hardens behind the fly of his trousers, but he can't let go of Reno to even free himself. He can't bear to lose contact, it feels too good, the pleasure singing through every part of him.

"Rude, you're nasty," Reno gasps. Rude listens to the sound of his nails scratching at the drywall. "At least tell me you like it."

Rude doesn't have to lick his ass to keep touching him, so he presses his mouth to one ass cheek. His inhibitions have been cut loose. He isn't sure he could do anything much more extreme than what he's already done, and swallowed. "I love it," he groans. "I'm so fucking hard."

The muscles in Reno's legs loosen, and Rude can feel the cords under his leather-clad fingers. The phrasing has relaxed him enough that Rude presses his tongue back inside, and Reno just moans desperately above him. "Do it. Please…"

Rude sinks his teeth into Reno's inner thigh and the sound he makes is a thousand times more arousing than what she had sounded like. His cock strains painfully in his slacks. He can't resist any more.

He jumps to his feet, shucking off his jacket. Reno stands still while Rude fidgets out of his damn belt. His slacks drop to his ankles and he pulls his cock out, rubbing the tip of it over that soft wet place. The circular barbell slips in first.

"What is that?" Reno gasps even as Rude presses his bare pierced cock inside.

The pleasure overwhelms them. Rude's arms clutch desperately around Reno, holding him close. "You're my soulmate," Rude says, biting down onto Reno's neck. "Mine." All he can do is press forward until he is seated all the way inside, trying to contain the arousal that threatens to boil over already. He grinds forward, groin to Reno's cheeks.

"Rafe's head bandages," Reno chokes out — like he can't help but think of him, of the other.

"I gave him an out," Rude says. His hips withdraw, but he presses back in. Reno is so tight, like nothing he's ever felt before, yet so yielding. "He didn't take it."

"You're crazy," Reno gasps, even as his right hand comes down to touch himself.

"Doesn't even begin to cut it," Rude growls. His hand comes up, turning Reno's chin to face him. Reno's pupils are blown wide, his lips parted, his cheeks flushed. He's the sexiest thing Rude has ever seen.

Rude kisses him and Reno doesn't object. In fact he actively leans towards it, the sloppy act only encouraging Rude to lay into him. The slow thrusts are only tolerable for so long, and soon he's fucking faster, fingers and palms leaving their mark on Reno's tender flesh.

Reno is the one who breaks the kiss, head falling down as he gasps for breath. "It's so big," he whines, and Rude drills him harder. He can see his elbow jerking fast back and forth, and Rude wants to touch. He's touched Reno so much over the years, but without this purpose, without the express reason of pleasure, but the connection of their bodies is incredible even through the leather of his gloves that skin to skin causes a buzzing delirium. Rude chases the high, throwing his other glove off so that one hand can finally pinch the nipples he's seen in his wet dreams since he was a teenager, while the other slides down Reno's lithe torso.

Reno's hand drops away as Rude's fingers card through his pubes. Rude loves to take pleasure in things, but he hasn't forgotten how much more he enjoys to give, as though licking Reno's ass hadn't almost made him come in his pants. "Please," Reno gasps.

Rude's hand curls around Reno's cock. It's weighty and sticking straight out, the position comfortable enough that it's almost like touching his own dick. But the hot velvety skin is sexier than he could have ever imagined. His sight is drowned out in the glow of their auras, the pleasure feedbacking in on itself. Just touching Reno's dick is the sexiest thing that's ever happened to him.

Rude loses control, the tremors of pleasure thrumming through him as he shoots his load. His hips slam so hard that Reno is shoved entirely against the wall, wailing while Rude feels cum slipping over his knuckles. Reno turns his head back and Rude kisses him again, but this time Reno takes over, kissing and biting until he draws blood, which draws another jolt of his orgasm to spray inside Reno's hole.

Rude is definitely, one hundred percent not straight. It occurs to him that it was so easy to lie to Reno because he's been lying to himself all his life, too.

What a dumbass he's been for his entire fucking life.

They separate from the kiss, but their bodies are still glued together. Reno is still trying to catch his breath.

Rude can feel blood trickling into his beard.

"Please," Rude whispers.

"Beg me," Reno croaks.

Rude can't even let go of his cock. Instead he holds Reno tightly across the chest and at the hips, embracing him and too scared to let go. He presses his closed eyes to the crook of Reno's shoulder. "I beg you," Rude says. "Please. Forgive me."

Reno doesn't say anything.

Rude still has one piece of materia on after throwing his glove aside: in the prince albert piercing. He casts Cure and Reno gasps, lurching even though Rude is still inside him. His hand mends itself, the bruises and marks from both Rafe and Rude fade and disappear. Any other injuries from his abduction fade.

"I'm so sorry, Reno. I've been wrong every step of the way. Every fucking step." Rude's lips move over his shoulder. "You're beautiful and terrifying and strong and funny and so fucking hot. You've made me crazy from day one. I tried to fight the goddess because I'm a stubborn ass. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

Reno's shoulders sag a bit. "Let me look at you," he says, his voice raggedy.

Rude's heart is so full of love he can't even let it fill with worry as he lets go of his soulmate, top and bottom. Reno turns in his arms, and Rude's cock slips out of him. He doesn't look mad.

Reno's hand comes up to his face, smearing the blood from their angry kisses over his chin and neck. Rude lets him, overwhelmed with how good it is to have Reno touch him this way.

Reno's eyebrows soften, continuing to touch him and his face. He pushes a finger into Rude's mouth and Rude sucks.

"I forgive you," Reno says.

Rude almost blurts out I love you in response.

"But you owe me. You owe me for 3 years of bullshit. You owe me a hundred blow jobs. You owe me your own ass. You owe me the fucking world, dude."

Rude doesn't even know why, but it makes his heart grow wings. He could float. He leans down, forehead touching Reno's. "I'll spend the rest of my life making it up to you. I'm sorry."

"D-don't," Reno says, his voice thick. "Don't get all emotional, asshole."

"You make me feel every feeling there is," Rude whispers. "I won't apologize for that."

Reno finally withdraws from him. "Can you—give me a minute?"

Rude blinks in shock, and then nods, stepping back. Or tries, but trips on his own pants around his ankles, landing on his ass with a disgraceful thud.

Reno stares down at him and then laughs like it's ripped out of him, a jolt of joviality neither knew they needed. Reno attempts to wipe a tear, and hits himself in the face with the cast. "Oh for fuck's sake!"

"I'll help you cut that off if you help me up," Rude says bashfully, reaching up with a hand.

Reno reaches down through peals of laughter. "Yeah, okay."

When Rude stands, there's a gentle knock at the door.

"Reno?" comes Rafe's voice.

They stare at each other and somehow, despite everything, the only response either of them have is to continue to laugh like a couple of jackasses.

"I'll talk to him," Reno says, tugging his underwear back on. It's practically distressing to see Reno cover himself up now that Rude only wants to be naked with Reno for the rest of time.

Instead of dressing, Rude strips, so that his naked body is in full view behind the door as Reno opens it.

Rafe sounds shocked when he opens the door and says, "Reno—!"

"Would you lick another man's cum out of my ass?" Reno asks blandly.

Rafe stares at him in horror. "What."

"Well, if not, I guess this means goodbye." Reno's voice is almost wicked. Rude's cock twitches. Oh, Rude has been more than stupid. He is going to spend the rest of his life making up for this, on his knees. He grows more erect at the thought. He's a bad, bad boy.

"He's just going to hurt you," Rafe hisses. He looks past Reno and meets Rude's eyes, fury flashing in them. Rude has already done more demeaning shit, so he just wraps his hand around his dick and Rafe forces himself to look back at Reno.

Reno sucks his teeth, unimpressed. "I'm prepared to take that risk."

"Reno—"

"See ya next week, Two Guns," Reno says, and shuts the door.

Rude stares at him, even as he turns. "I don't deserve you," he whispers, still touching himself.

"Probably not. Let's get in the shower. Then you can tell me about all those fucking piercings. Fuck's sake Rude. Calling my ass a homophobe for calling you gay and you have a hoop through your dong. That I only found out after you ate my ass full of another guy's—"

"Hey, whoa. It won't happen again," Rude says, and reaches for him. "Next time I'll only lick my own cum out of you."

Reno blinks owlishly, taking his hand. "Goddess be damned, you are my perfect match."

Rude doesn't have time to respond before Reno is all over him again.

"Wait—wait— let me get this damn cast off of you..!"

Chapter Text

Rafe tries very hard to regain his cool outside of Veld's office. There were some things in this life as a Turk that he was prepared for, yet he was constantly blindsided when it came to office politik.

He knocks his knuckles against the door.

"Come in," Veld says.

Rafe slips in and shuts the door behind him. "Can I have that Cure now, boss?"

Veld sits at his desk, eyes moving up and down Rafe's body like surveillance equipment. He leans back, folding his arms. "Did you finally succeed?"

"Yeah. They're fucking," Rafe grumbles. "I had to see Rude bare ass naked. Did you know that guy could set off a metal detector if he got his head chopped off?"

Veld raises an eyebrow. He turns to his computer, typing and clicking around, and Rafe stands there like a jackass, his head still aching from being headbutted and from the actual visual bombardment he'd had to experience that morning.

"Neither of them have swiped in yet," Veld hums. "Though I see Rude accessed Reno's apartment block."

"I'm telling you. They fucked. Also Reno stopped having that sad little glint in his eye he's had for longer than I can remember."

Veld grunts in agreement, and finally casts the high level cure spell — much higher than necessary — on Rafe. The goosegg on his head disappears, the stress in his muscles wanes. Damn. High level magic.

"Rude is the most stubborn asshole on the planet, by the way."

Veld smiles then. "That's good for our work, you know. The best secret keeper we have. And now he won't be handicapped by his ignorance of how soulmatism works." Veld tips his head. "What tipped him over the edge?"

Rafe looks at the floor, embarrassed. "I texted Rude that Reno took me raw this morning."

Veld claps his hands together. "I told you that would work."

Rafe tries not to wince. The boss was harsh but fair, but also a total sex freak. "I'm sorry I didn't take your advice sooner."

"No matter," Veld says. "You've accomplished your mission and with that soulmate bond finally cementing, you won't have to see them for at least a month while they are on bonding sabbatical. Your payment for this operation will be deposited within the hour."

"Do I get to go on sabbatical? I might have trauma after seeing… What I did," Rafe says.

Veld rolls his eyes. "While two of my best are out of office? Not a chance."

Rafe sighs. "Anything else?"

"If they ever get word of our meddling, your employment will be terminated. Anything else?"

The company will kill you, Rafe thinks. "No, sir."

"Good. Congratulations again on a job well done," Veld says, and pulls a small bottle of tequila out of his desk. He passes it to Rafe. "Enjoy. Dismissed."

Rafe cracks open the bottle as he heads back to his desk. All things considered, he's going to miss that ass. Just not that annoying mouth.

The warmth and pleasure of hands on skin and in hair is deliriously good. The shower is small and awkward, and it doesn't help that Rude can't stop touching Reno. His thick fingers card through Reno's shaggy red hair. "You ever think of growing it out?"

Reno's own hands slip over Rude's shoulders, his back, down to his ass. Soapy fingers get dangerously close to Rude's asshole and it fills him with interest rather than fear. He hopes Reno wants his ass, even. Would lick it like Rude had done to him. His hips jerk up, hard cock rubbing up against Reno's under the hot spray of water.

"Seems like a lot of maintenance," Reno hums.

"You looked so good in a wig," Rude moans.

Reno's fingers dig hard into one of his ass cheeks. "You fucker. You thought I was a hot woman?"

"The hottest," he agrees.

Instead of anger, Reno's lips spread into a toothy grin. It's predatory. "I'll think about it."

Rude's hands slide out of his hair. "If we don't get out of the shower, I'm afraid we're going to slip and crack our heads."

"You wouldn't split your head open for me?" Reno gasps with a dramatic flair, and with a frustrated groan, Rude realizes he probably would.

Instead he turns the water off. "Come on, loud mouth."

"Cue ball!"

"Mop head."

"Chrome dome!"

They push and swat at each other even as they make their way out of the bathroom. Rude is in another world. He hasn't felt this carefree since… Ever. He's never had this lightness intertwined with such a body-anchoring, throbbing resolve.

They make it to Reno's bed when Rude murmurs, "Lay down."

Reno does as he's told, pulling far enough away that Rude can finally see their auras split. It radiates around the object of his affection, opalescent and pink, and Rude's mouth waters. Despite the obvious beauty in his lithe form, Reno's expression almost looks bashful and nervous.

"I know you'd prefer tits or something, but—" Reno begins, and Rude crawls onto the bed until he is on his hands and knees above him.

"I've never known what I'd actually like," Rude says gruffly, and then gets his hands on Reno's pecs. His nipples stiffen under Rude's hands, and he can't keep his mouth off them any longer. He tastes like clean skin, but Rude's lips feel tingly like he's close to static shock. Even as he sucks and bites he can practically feel the pressure on his own chest.

Rude reaches for Reno's hands, pulling them both up to his body. Reno gets the hint and pulls on those nipple rings, and Rude's moan buzzes through both their bodies.

"I've fantasized for years," Rude admits. Sharing this connection has stripped away his secrets, his shame, his walls. He would have never admitted that under normal circumstances.

"I can tell," Reno says, his voice full of shivers. "Your cock is dripping on me."

Rude tips his head down to look between his legs. His cock is huge and swollen, and there's more pre-cum than he's ever seen. His face turns hot, wanting to escape the realization, but then his gaze turns towards Reno's, just as hard and laying in an opalescent aura of its own.

"I need to taste every inch of you," Rude growls.

"Not much left after you ate my ass," Reno laughs, but it turns into a moan as Rude's mouth makes a prompt path downward.

A dick in his hand was one thing, but in his mouth is life changing. He takes him down his throat all at once and then pulls off until he just sucks the head, his tongue circling and teasing, the barbell adding extra sensations. Reno's hands clutch at the back of his head and neck, and he moans out the most beautiful sounds. Rude uses a hand to gather the pool of precum on Reno's belly so that he can touch himself, and the sensation is exquisite.

"Can I come in your mouth?" Reno asks, though it's not so much of a question as it is a warning. Rude tries to focus on a consistent rhythm instead of answering, and he is rewarded. Reno's cock trembles in his mouth before the shaft pulses from root to tip. Splashes of cum fill Rude's mouth and he instinctually swallows, leaving Reno deep inside until he is completely finished and Rude feels like he is actually full of his soulmate.

He hadn't even realized he'd stopped touching himself to focus entirely on Reno. He pulls off with exaggerated slowness until Reno's cock slips out. Rude gazes up at him, searching for his eyes, and Reno meets them. Rude is pretty sure he can see hearts in them.

"I fucking knew you got that tongue ring to suck my cock," Reno groans.

Rude licks his lips and shrugs, a tiny grin spreading. "You're probably right." The subconscious wants what it wants.

Reno wiggles underneath him. "Trade me spots, I need to touch this thing it's been so long because you're the biggest dick on the planet."

Rude lifts an eyebrow at him and Reno grabs for him, shoving him back into the bed. "That was not supposed to be a compliment!"

"Too late," Rude says as he adjusts onto his back, a smug warmth settling into him.

"Can't believe I even want to do this to you," Reno grumbles, even as his hands wrap around Rude's dick and moans despite himself. Reno's face looks almost angelic, his cheeks flushed and nose scrunched like a cherub. His hands work in tandem in a rhythm Rude's had wet dreams about.

Reno's tongue slips out and toys with the thick metal hoop, flipping it from side to side before his lips cause sweet suction friction all around the head of him. His mouth is hot and wet, and he drinks down the pre-cum with delighted little whimpers.

Rude's pretty sure he's been in love with Reno for a long time, but this image of him will be burned into his brain as the moment he realized it. It's filthy and sweet and terribly earnest.

Reno moves one hand off of his cock to instead trace the golden glowing tattoo. It's Reno's right hand, so it traces the letters fatass, but Rude is more focused on how Reno goes deeper now that his left hand slides down to the base. Reno makes less of the cute sounds and more of a sloppy choking variety that makes Rude's balls tighten up.

"It's really good," Rude murmurs, too dumbstruck to think of anything else. He places a hand on Reno's jaw and then his neck, stroking his throat. Rude wants to ask for more, but also wants Reno to do whatever he wants. Everything he's doing is pretty great.

Reno's primary hand drops away and he dives deeper down. A rumbling groan comes from deep inside Rude at the sight of Reno swallowing his entire erect dick. Reno's noises are more gutteral and vulgar, and Rude can't control his hips thrusting up into it. Reno takes it like a champ, even letting his lips go lack so that Rude can really thrust up and back. Rude hasn't slept with many people but he's pretty sure not many can do the things Reno is doing to him.

"Let me fuck you again," Rude groans. "Please."

Reno pulls off and Rude's cock is shiny. "Okay, but I'm not getting on top."

"No, get on your hands and knees. I want to see the words."

Reno scoffs, but crawls into the position willingly. He moves to pull his lube out of the bedside table and sighs. "It's almost empty, so."

Rude snatches the bottle from him and frowns. He does not want to think of how much this went into Reno fucking other people.

"Ooh, you're jealous," Reno says, and Rude balks.

How did he get clocked so easily?

"Down here I can read your individual aura," Reno teases. He's looking over his shoulder, but he shifts so he can pull his cheeks apart with one hand. "That green is unmistakable."

"You know what that stuff means?" Rude asks, even as he pops the top and squirts some into his hand.

"Do you not?" Reno asks back in shock. "The first time I saw an aura I went looking up what that shit meant. It's apparently not fool proof since everyone's a little different but a couple are real obvious. Anyway, you're free to be jealous. I think it's hot."

Rude tries not to keep frowning. "I don't wanna think about anybody else fucking you."

"Then you better be worth my time," Reno says with a smile, just as Rude presses a slippery finger inside him. "Oh."

"I'll be quick," Rude murmurs, and fingers him open with two fingers. He'd done a little self exploration on his own, so he was almost familiar with the push and pull. Reno yields to him easily, though, and soon Rude is pressing his bare cock inside in one long slide.

"Fuck you're still big," Reno grunts.

"Sorry my cock's too big for you," Rude murmurs, the smirk evident in his voice.

"Oh fuck off," Reno moans in annoyance, though it swiftly tumbles into a laugh.

"Maybe if I fuck you faster…" Rude's hands slide around his hips, though one hand moves up to trace listen, and then presses his palm down into it. "Like this, yeah?"

Reno doesn't smart mouth back to him, instead gasping out those cute sounds again. Rude fucks him harder, too, and he's afraid he's going to come too fast. But he can't look away from the sight of his cock splitting Reno in half again and again, and it's so much more slippery than thismorning with the real lube.

"You still soft?" he pants.

"Yeah, daddy," Reno murmurs in a dreamy daze.

Rude's hips jerk backwards, his hand flying to stroke his dick to orgasm, his cum splattering all over the soulmate mark. He slaps his cock in the mess, making Reno keen in pleasure again.

"You feel really good," Rude says, still smearing himself in it.

"Mmyeah," Reno replies.

Rude wants to clean him up and spoon him, and Reno is tired enough that Rude does it. Reno doesn't fight him, and in fact cuddles him face to face.

Under normal circumstances Rude would have never rested like that, but he is out in an instant.

There's a heavy knock at the door.

Both of them lurch their heads up, and Rude is the first to realize. "Shit—! Work." Neither of them had called in. Rude had simply marched into Reno's apartment and taken what was his. The soulmatism had clouded his judgment.

"I'll get it," Reno grumbles, half awake. But they both get up, Rude searching for a pair of underwear even as Reno heads to the door with just a towel in front of his dick.

To Rude's horror, Reno just opens the door … But there's no one there. "Rude," he says. "There's uh. A gift basket. And some flowers. And a big box with the Shinra logo on it."

Rude stares at Reno's ass like it'll be the last time. God, why does he want to get his mouth on it again already? "What?"

Reno bends down to drag the pile of items into his doorway and then shuts the door. Rude shakes his head to clear it of the fog of sex that's settled in. He walks up behind him and sees a letter on top of the Shinra branded box addressed to "Rude & Reno" in Veld's handwriting.

"What the hell is all this?" Reno asks, even as he tears open the cellophane surrounding the gift basket. "Ooh, fancy cheese."

Rude opens the letter. At least it isn't handwritten. It's not even 'from' Veld. It appears to be from the "People Department" at Shinra.

"To the recently consummated soulmates," Rude reads slowly, eyebrows rising. "We at Shinra Electric Power Company send you best wishes. As mandated by Gaian convention, your month long mandatory sabbatical begins today. On behalf of the Administrative Research department, you will be upgraded to a two bedroom apartment suite, which you will be expected to move into during your bonding period. The Goddess imparts her blessings. Sincerely, the executive team at Shinra Electric Power Company."

Reno has already ripped a baguette in half and dunked it into a tiny jar of red jam. "The fuck is a sabbatical?"

"Why does the entire executive team know we consummated?" The color drains from his face. "Is your apartment bugged?"

"Knowing Veld, he asked Rafe. Veld caught me and him jerking each other off last week."

Rude balks, yanking the jar of jam out of Reno's hands. "Why the hell were you screwing around at work?"

"Gee, why was I constantly sexually frustrated and looking for anything to match the high of a handjob from forever ago?" Reno takes another bite of the bread. "Honestly if you don't fool around with me at work, I'm gonna have to get my nut out somewhere." He rustles around in the basket. "Two bottles of champagne, by the way. Ooh, and a pamphlet about something called 'overstimulation exhaustion'."

Rude chokes. "God, I hope these are not personalized."

"No way. All this shit is stamped with the Shinra logo. Nothing with our initials much less anything else. Open the big box, why don't you?"

Rude sets the jam down and drops to his knees to open the large box. Inside it is a fuzzy blanket — generic, as Reno had suspected — and a half gallon jug of Costless brand personal lubricant with a squirt top.

"I'm going to kill myself," Rude whispers in horror, even though another more honest part of himself thinks, Sweet, we just ran out of lube.

"Okay, but can you at least wait until after we fuck a hundred more times?" Reno asks, dropping the baguette to grab the champagne bottle. "Because I really want to experience whatever overstimulation exhaustion is."

"This doesn't bother you at all?" Rude asks, and nearly squeaks when Reno pops the top on the champagne, liquid frothing and spilling out the top in a way that makes Rude's cock hard in an instant.

Reno lifts an eyebrow at him as he takes a foam-filled swig straight from the bottle. "No. Even if it is bugged, they're just gonna see you suck my dick. Ain't that right, Veld!?" he calls to the open air.

Rude blinks. "They expect us to move in together," he says softly.

"All I heard was suite. We're gonna be on the top floor. Oh my god Rafe is gonna be so jealous." Reno is almost cackling. Rude feels jealousy too, though it's simply that Reno has said that fucker's name twice already, and if Reno knows what it looks like already, it's worth it to hide his feelings.

"I'd prefer you forget his name by the time we go back to work," he growls.

Reno smirks at him and passes him the bottle. "Loosen up, you have me already," he winks.

Rude relaxes and take the champagne. "I'm going to pour this into a glass."

"Let's just take this to the kitchen," Reno says, snatching the basket. "Ooh, there's another pamphlet in here. It has the floorplan to the bigger apartment!"

Neither of them own too much, but packing takes twice as long because they can't seem to go twenty minutes without touching each other.

Rude might be even more guilty than Reno in that instance, as he's coming up behind Reno to squeeze and fondle his chest whenever he gets the option, and Reno basks in the attention. But after three days they manage to pack up ten total boxes: the majority of which being Shinra suits and used textbooks.

They hire a couple cadets to ferry their boxes to their new address so they can christen Rude's old apartment before they say goodbye to it forever, and Reno doesn't even feel guilty about how there weren't paper towels left inside so they couldn't wash the spunk off the wall.

Rude feels guilty and takes his old white shinra tee off to clean up. Reno laughs until he realizes Rude isn't going to put the shirt back on, and two strange things happen.

One, Rude feels very keen to what Reno is feeling, his slow unwrapping of a realization that Rude is going to leave his apartment with no shirt on and thus put everything on display from nipple rings to his soulmate's bad handwriting and worse mouth. Reno swoons and Rude catches him with one arm — the dirty shirt is still in his left hand, held straight out from their bodies.

"Help me out, here," Rude mutters. "Bad enough I have to take a walk of shame out of my own apartment."

That causes Reno's momentary fit of being so in love that it made Rude feel stupid to vanish in a crackle of laughter. Rude exhales, and as they make it out of the building, he tosses the shirt into a dumpster.

"You're gonna waste that shirt?" Reno asks.

Rude just grunts out an affirmation and keeps on walking. The distance is a short block's walk away but the faster the better, as he's still shirtless.

"Damn, you have a good looking back," Reno says, his voice trailing just behind him, and Rude feels a hot bolt of lust go through him. He's not even sure if it's his own feelings, though. He doesn't respond, but doesn't slow down, either. If Reno wants to ogle him from behind, that might do Rude some good for his mental, right?

The cadets are waiting for them in their apartment and Rude sighs, Reno staying behind him and slightly out of the way. He pulls his wallet out and hands them each a thousand gil for their trouble.

They salute and take off in the kind of militaristic formation that would make him laugh if he didn't know it was brainwashed into—

The door slams shut and Reno presses himself up on Rude's back. "This place came furnished, right? There's a bed."

Rude blinks. "Yes, there's a—"

"Hurry," Reno moans, grinding his erection up against Rude's ass, and another one of those strange realizations hits him.

"You want to fuck me?" Rude asks, fully shocked, even as they march their way into the sterile bedroom. A mattress on a metal frame, no sheets. "Do we even have lube?"

"In my pocket, take your clothes off already," Reno rambles, stripping faster than Rude could. Rude stares at him and realizes that he wants Reno to do this. He wants to let another man fuck him.

His cheeks burn in embarrassment. It's a terrifying, stunning realization, one he needs time to think about. But Reno yanks Rude's belt out of its loops and shoves his pants and underwear down in under three seconds, and the domination of it all makes Rude's cock spring to life.

"On your back. Legs hanging off," Reno orders.

Rude does as he's told, but can't help commenting, "On the bare mattress?"

"Just because I'm gonna fuck you doesn't mean you have to be a girl about it," Reno smirks, tugging Rude's socks off. And in his hand, like he's been hiding it behind his ear, is a little bottle of lube. Rude is stunned into silence, lips parted, heart pounding out of his chest, and decides to spread his legs a bit more. Offering.

Reno moans in appreciation as he places two wet fingers right above his hole. "Damn right." They glide back and prod at him, and Rude winces. He was fine with Reno's ass. It's his own he's got nerves about.

"I know you don't like it, but I have to be honest. You do have a fat ass, Rude."

It feels as though a ghost has entered his body. Rude stares at him in utter shock.

Reno smirks at him. "It's so fucking thick. Jiggles on the treadmill." One finger slides inside him, all the way, and Rude can't close his mouth even though he can't make a goddamn sound. "I've wanted to fuck your fat ass for a long time."

Rude would normally try and fight to gain control of the situation, but in this instance it's his own hand that is magnetized to his cock. It's so hard and heavy, and with Reno's hand under him, his balls rub up against Reno's wrist. A second finger is in him now, and Reno is plunging them inside.

"I've never," Rude says, too embarrassed to elaborate, but his legs continue to spread, knees bending up until his feet are on the mattress.

"You're taking my fingers real good," Reno says gruffly. "Just like me. You were made for taking it."

Precum squirts out of Rude's dick and smears into the golden glow of Reno's words. "Am not," he says.

"Yeah, you are," Reno coos, and pulls his fingers out. Rude stares down to watch Reno cover his pretty cock in lube, fisting it right in front of Rude's hole. "I've never seen anybody cave so fast. You wanted me to fuck your fat ass." The blunt head of him presses against Rude and the embarrassing truth in the words make it so much easier to accept Reno sliding deep inside.

"Oh my god," Reno groans, and he can't stop himself as his hips snap back and forth. "I fucking knew it, you—fucking slut." Reno's hands come down to snatch Rude's ankles, hoisting up his hips and legs with it. The movement is enough to make Rude moan in a way that was a little more delicate than most of his noises.

Reno's predatory eyes turn him on even more, and Rude's hand tightens around his dick. "You like it, Rude? You like a big dick inside you?"

Rude can't look away from Reno's eyes. Sometimes he swore there was a halo around Reno's head. This time it almost felt like devil horns. "Yeah," Rude admits.

Reno's hips don't stop. "I knew I was right about you," he groans, pulling Rude's legs up to press against his body. Reno is so sexy above him, whipcord muscles strained, sweat running down his neck. "Just like me. A faggot, too."

The sharpness of the word almost sends Rude over the edge. His tongue wets his lips. "I am," he gasps, heart opening up to that messaging.

"Tell me. That it feels so good to be fucked," Reno teases, his thrusts growing more shallow and fast.

Rude is five strokes away from coming everywhere. "I was wrong about being straight," he whispers, staring up at Reno. "I would do anything to have you pound my asshole. I don't wanna come until you paint my insides."

Reno stares at him, his next stuttered words of I'm c-coming lost to his moans as he thrusts frantically inside of Rude. Rude takes his last strokes of his heavy cock and shoots his load up over his own pecs and abs. Reno's hips press tightly again him as he finishes inside, but his hands come up to smear Rude's cum on his hands. He rubs it over the glowing words on his stomach, smiling to himself.

"Felt pretty good," Rude says, clearing his throat.

"Yeah, I'll bet it did. Faggot," Reno says, and Rude bursts out laughing like he's a damn teenager.

Rude and Reno return to work and remain a respectful distance from each other at the bull pen.

There are many jokes, but unfortunately, the soulmate bonding had solidified them both. Reno seemed less junky-jittery, and Rude more confident. Reno didn't reek of a need for attention and Rude no longer gave off a repellant aura.

And they do damn good work.

Veld finishes up the report and sends it off, letting out a long sigh. Having non cooperative, non consummated soulmates in one office was a liability and a half. Now he has a dreamteam to do his dirty work.

He opens up a different screen, thoughtfully humming as he clicks through several folders until he finds Surveillance. He glances at the clock to confirm the time, before he locates the live feed of the stairwell's security camera. He tilts his head, unfastening his pants as he watches in surprise that it's Rude on his knees for Reno this time. He knew this would be a good idea. And the angle is incredible. Veld's robotic hand tightens up around his hardening cock. He'd always thought Rude had a nice fat ass.