Chapter Text
It's Saturday, 21:00. The first Saturday since Frejya met him at the tree in the park, instead of Chelsea.
This time last week they were stumbling into her flat on the wake of a concert, and a wine bar. They both like classical music, and there had been pianos playing in the sector concert hall. Her lips and teeth were tinted wine purple when she took his hand and led him to her Piano, wanted to show off that she could play a little too, wanted to teach him the basics.
This time the week before that they'd still been in bed where they'd fallen Friday night, having left only for necessities like food.
This Saturday, at 21:00, he was spending alone in his quarters, on the couch, reading. Trying to read. He read a paragraph, or two, then read them again because the words didn't stick the first time. He makes it through a few pages, he thinks, before realizing again that he has no idea how the protagonist has gotten from Nibelheim to Kalm. He is about to flip back and start again when his door buzzes. Then buzzes again when three seconds later it hasn't been opened.
“Hey Rude! It's me, let me in, yo!” He carefully marks his page and sets the book down, knowing that pretending he isn't home is probably a hopeless endeavor. Besides, if he's honest, he would like the company.
Reno is standing in his doorway, fidgeting, holding a case of beer and a tupperware of what Rude recognizes as home-made five layer dip, and a handful of suspiciously unmarked DVDs. He beams disarmingly when the door opens, brushing past Rude and already talking before he can be either accepted or dismissed. His jacket smells like alcohol as he passes, but he doesn't seem drunk.
“Hah! I knew you'd be in. You been a real downer since Tuesday man. Not that I'm blamin' you any.”
“What are you doing here?” It's an honest question. By all rights Reno should be just now starting to think of leaving the second bar of the night in favor of some coffee and the first club.
“Like I said, you been a real downer lately. Came to cheer you up.” Rude picks up the dip and the beer from where they've been just left on the floor beside Reno as he messes with Rude's television.
“With what, exactly?” Reno twists around to face Rude, still smiling goofily and holds up the unmarked cases.
“Lemon Whores, May the Foreskin be With you, and the time honored classic of pornographic hilarity: Deep Throat. Which one do you wanna watch first? Gotta say, I recommend saving Deep Throat for a few more drinks.” For an uncomfortably long time, neither of them moves.
“... I am not watching porn with you.”
“'Course not, you're watching terrible porn with me. Completely different.”
“How?”
“Because partner, it's funny, completely un-erotic, and there is nothing gonna pick you up faster than a reminder of exactly what you aren't missing.” Rude crosses his arms, and raises an eyebrow.
“What I won't be missing?”
“Yeah. Sex is fun and all, but when you think about it, it's pretty ridiculous. Awkward as shit too.” Rude is unmoved. “Oh you doubt now, but you'll see. It'll be fun, yo.”
“...”
“Oh come on!”
“...”
“Please?”
“...”
To Rude's genuine surprise, Reno deflates. He ejects the disk from the DVD player, and starts gathering them up. Rude isn't sure, but he thinks he may actually be pouting a little.
“Okay, okay. If you really don't want to we won't. I ain't gonna make you do nothin', yo.” Rude watches him packing up, shoulders down, movements slow, and sighs.
“Fine.”
“Huh?”
“Fine, I'll have a few beers and watch the damn porn.”
“Fuck, yeah! Don't worry, you won't regret it.”
And he's right, Rude doesn't regret it. The beer is mass produced light lager. Not his taste, but since Reno knows nothing about beer, actively dislikes it even, he's grateful it's here at all rather than a bottle of liquor. The dip is delicious, as always. And somewhere, surprisingly quickly between the lemons in leotards and the terrible acting and the light saber dildos and the rockets-in-place-of-cum-shots, and Reno's constant, giggling commentary, he is, in fact laughing his ass off.
Reno's feet have found their way into Rude's lap, which isn't unusual. A year or two ago he might have thought so, but by now he's used to Reno being touchy, and flirty. He is with everyone. They keep having to pause, just to talk, to elaborate on a point or a joke. Rude realizes he's missed just hanging out with the kid. He hasn't almost since he started seeing Chelsea.
“At least you know it ain't you.”
“Hm?”
“Your girlfriend. Look I'm sorry. It fuckin' sucks, yo. The whole thing. But at least you know it's not that she didn't like you.”
“Sure.” Rude isn't actually sure that that's better. Reno stretches, long and languid, crosses his ankles over Rude's thighs, leans back with his hands behind his head.
“I mean seriously, what's not to like?” he continues. “You dress sharp as fuck. You always got this cool aura of no bullshit, all business. Into all this sophisticated shit with your books and your music. Don't mean you ain't still a bad-ass though,' cause the only bigger bad-ass n' you is me. Not to mention you got that tall dark and fucking gorgeous thing going on.” He trails off, picks a beer can off the floor, pops the top.
And Rude does catch himself looking, the way his head tilts back and back, and his adams apple moves while he chugs the whole thing down, pulling a face when he's finished it. “Beer. I just don't understand. My point is, partner. Other fish, right. You got no lack of interested parties just for the asking, I'd bet about anything.”
“Sure.” Rude shrugs, a little foggy now, after four beers, and a little confused.
They don't say much, for a long while after that. It isn't uncomfortable. At around 24:00, Rude glances over at his partner, and realizes he's fallen asleep, sprawled out on the couch. As usual, he hasn't done up his shirt, even most of the way, the light from the T.V plays blue across the exposed skin at his throat, and collarbones. And it's...nice. The weight of Reno's limbs on him, and the gentle rise and fall of his breathing. He shakes the thought away lightly. He's been lonely the last several days, and he's definitely starting on drunk.
Carefully, he dislodges himself, switches off the television, and goes to find a spare blanket.