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It was the winds that made Reno dizzy, the funnels of red dust and city-mass, circling slowly around Midgar. Then a green glow enveloped everything, and all was still.
But the wreckage was still there, parts that stuck out all around them like broken stems; buildings, streets, battered signs and twisted letters.
Reno had found Rufus unconscious under a dangling piece of metal ironically bearing the Shinra logo; he had pulled him out, ignoring the creak of his own bones that seemed to match the strange destruction laid out all around him. And then Tseng had found them; the Shinra building was a landmark, even amidst chaos.
And so they walked together for a time, picking their way over the twisted metal and remnants of streets that Meteor's swirling hot winds had left in their wake. Reno knew Midgar better than any of them, having grown up there. Even in its present state Tseng knew he had the a dependable guide through the hellish rubble; things could have been a lot worse.
It was indeterminable whether it was night or day due to the red cloud of toxic dust cloying to the city; just a hazy, dim light that cast no shadow.
"Rude? Elena?" Tseng had finally asked, Rufus's body (breathing, heart beating) slung over his shoulder.
"Elena wasn't with us," Reno said easily, a few steps ahead of Tseng. "I don't know where she is. I was hoping you might. And..." he barely paused before continuing, "Rude didn't get out." Reno didn't break his stride, his voice steady. "I saw him go under... then I lost him."
"Go under?"
"Go under the flames," he replied. "A piece of the sector ceiling fell on top of us when everyone was trying to get out, and then..."
Bodies crushing him, like a rushing angry river of white water, and his body trying to remain an immovable stone, trying to push back against the current, anger and desperation driving him forward. But he wasn't strong enough.
Found a doorway, stopped, pressed his body as flat as he could and finally the river was a dribble, and then nothing. The metal overhead creaked and he saw Rude across from him.
And then it fell; the sky fell like lead. Into the street it crashed, crushing buildings and streetlamps and cars. There was fire, something snapping and sparking as a cable touched a mako pipe and burst. Everything burned and fell and then Rude was gone.
He screamed for what seemed like days, looking, searching, digging and scrambling with his dirty hands through pieces of sheet metal and fragments of human life--cooking pots, shoes, doorknobs, a pair of glasses and the occasional body part--searching. Rang the PHS; no sound. Just silence, creaking metal, and more silence.
"And then he was gone." A shrug.
"We'll come back," Tseng finally said, "after we leave the President at Healen."
Healen was a seldom-used Shinra-based medical facility just outside of Midgar. Tseng had only been there a few times, but it was a relatively secure, discrete place stocked with medical supplies.
Reno looked over at him in surprise. Tseng had never been one for missions fueled by sentiment and false hope.
When Tseng saw the look, he frowned mildly. "He might still be alive."
Maybe it wasn't false hope; Rude had survived a lot of shit in his time. But Reno just turned himself off, nodded, and Tseng didn't comment further. They all had their survival tactics.
By the time they deposited Rufus at a semi-functional Healen with the limited medical staff there--mostly hiding to try and ride out Meteor, and relieved to be given something to do--Reno had grown quiet. Too quiet for Tseng's comfort, obviously standing on the edge of some precipice that he was eyeing the drop into.
"Let's go," Tseng said as soon as Rufus had woken up, blinked at both of them as if he didn't know who he was, croaked out some order about the (destroyed) Sister Ray cannon, and then been sedated when he tried to get up.
This time, they went prepared, and took one of the Shinra trucks that had survived the winds and funneling clouds of Meteor back to the remains of the sector where Reno had lost Rude.
It was Tseng that found Rude, unconscious and partially trapped under a steel girder, probably more calm than Reno had been when he was frantically searching, doing a better job of digging a hole into the other side of the Planet than actually finding anything.
Tseng looked away when Reno pressed his ear against Rude's chest and his fingers against his neck, desperately listening for a heartbeat, and then the expression that came over his face when he realized his partner was still alive.
"Rude," was all he said quietly.
They dragged the metal beam away; by some twist of luck, it hadn't crushed his leg. Rude's face was covered in blood, but it looked like most of it had originated from a single nasty gash on the side of his head.
Reno cast a cure spell on him, but Rude didn't move. He dropped to his knees next to the unmoving body of his partner, and cast it again.
"Wake up, you dumb bastard," he whispered desperately. Tseng just crossed his arms and waited behind Reno; his own heartbeat sounded much louder in his ears than it had in a long time.
There was a mild groan, and then Rude moved. Reno visibly trembled.
"You're the dumb bastard," he croaked out. Reno's arms went around him to help him sit up; he didn't say anything and just shook his head.
Tseng was at their side in a moment, kneeling down. "Follow my finger," he said, and traced his finger in a cross shape in front of Rude's face.
Rude didn't seem to have a concussion as his eyes followed the movement of Tseng's fingers steadily, and Tseng internally sighed with relief. The last thing he needed right now was to lose one of his men. And although their history extended behind that, Tseng had always played the role he needed to; so he did so now, dropped his hand and stood up without another word, ignoring the roar of blood in his ears, the stink of dead bodies and dead buildings, ignored the ruined city around them. For once, he wasn't thinking very far ahead; Rufus was alive, Rude was alive, and right then, that was all that mattered. So Tseng decided to give his mind the rest of the night off.
"C'mon," Reno said to Rude quietly, helping him to stand. "Let's get the fuck out of here."
Tseng braced him on one side, and with Reno on the other, they managed to help Rude into the truck. He seemed more stunned than injured though, and when they reached Healen, he was able to walk himself right into a hot shower.
"Make sure he doesn't pass out," Tseng directed. Reno just nodded, as if it were obvious he wasn't planning on doing anything else.
Before walking away, Reno turned suddenly. Then he said something Tseng never expected to hear out of him.
"Thanks," he mumbled, looking at the floor with his hands shoved into his pockets.
For a moment, Tseng was struck with an overwhelming feeling of déjà vu; standing in front of him was the kid he had met only a few months after he had joined the Turks himself. Longer hair, scuffed up, older, maybe a little less cocky...but there he was.
"We're Turks," Tseng replied simply. Then added after a few moments, "Now go get cleaned up and get some sleep. We need to find Elena and then re-group once the President wakes up. I need you two ready for tomorrow."
"Yeah," Reno replied, nodding a little. "We will be." Then he disappeared into the doorway as he followed Rude up the stairs.
Reno knocked on the door, watching a trail of steam puff out from underneath of it. No response, but the water was running and had been for a while.
"Rude?" he said, and knocked again louder. When there was still no answer, he tested the knob; it was unlocked, and he and cracked the door open an inch.
"Hey!" he hesitated, mild panic settling into the pit of his stomach before he pushed it away. "You uh...dead?"
Above the steady spray of the shower and the creaking of seldom-used pipes, he heard a snort.
"No, asshole."
Reno grinned despite himself and opened the door a little further.
"What the fuck you doin' in there? Exfoliating?" he asked, shifting to lean against the door frame and fiddle with his hair which was currently very dirty and smelled like death. He pushed that thought away too, and focused on Rude's reassuring presence on the other side of the tattered shower curtain, the fresh smell of clean water and steam.
The curtain was a few inches too short, and he could see the shower floor and part of Rude's leg--there was a lot of pink water washing down the drain.
"You okay?" he hazarded, his voice more serious.
There was a pause, and then Rude replied, "...Might need you to help patch me up the old-fashioned way."
Reno had already hit him with those two shots of cure, but Tseng had taken the materia down with him to Rufus; he was in worse shape than Rude. There was no materia in Healen, just ordinary medical supplies. But now Reno was estimating how fast he could run down two flights of stairs and trying to remember which doors worked.
"Just a few stitches," Rude added, as if hearing Reno's thought process.
"Let me see," Reno demanded, pushing the door open now and stepping into the small bathroom. The tile was cold against his bare feet.
The entire place was a total shit hole, including the sorry excuse for a bathroom--a towel rack hanging on its one remaining bar from the wall, a rusty sink, a toilet that Reno was hoping to any existing god worked, and a small circular table in the corner stocked with random toiletries that had probably been there for longer than Reno had been alive.
He shoved them out of the way and perched on top of it, leaning against the wall behind him and propping one foot against the edge of the sink; the bathroom was that small.
Rude stuck his head out to look at Reno. The dried blood around the gash on his head had been rinsed away, revealing how bad it really was. Reno could also see the cuts and bruises on his knuckles and arm, now that all the dirt had been washed off.
"This," Rude said, pointing to his head, then disappeared back behind the curtain with a loud jangle of shower curtain rings along the bar.
"Fuckin' head wounds," Reno muttered to himself; he wasn't looking forward to stitching Rude's head up. Reno's talent was cracking skulls; not fixing them.
Rude's voice interrupted his thoughts. "You just gonna sit in here?"
Reno looked again at the visible portion of the shower floor and felt relief wash over him when he saw that it was no longer tinged with Rude's blood.
"Hell yeah," he said, rolling his eyes. "You got a fuckin' head wound. You're also gonna stay awake for the next few hours until I'm convinced that you're not going to bite it in your sleep."
Rude just made a disgruntled sound of acknowledgement--Reno knew he was exhausted. Reno also knew that this meant he wouldn't be sleeping either.
Neither one of them spoke for a few minutes, and Reno leaned his head back against the wall, closed his eyes and inhaled. The air smelled like water, humid warmth, and he swore, somehow like Rude.
"Thanks," Rude said suddenly, breaking the peaceful silence.
"For what?" Reno asked, opening his eyes and frowning slightly in bemusement.
"For hauling my sorry ass out of there."
"That's what I'm here for partner," he replied after a moment of charged silence, "to haul your sorry ass around."
His voice was even-pitched and easy, but somewhere in the furthest reaches of his mind, he could hear his own screams again echoing around piles of debris, calling Rude's name; then that overwhelming vast silence that still felt like it was pressing down on him from all sides.
"Wonder what's going on with the rest of the world," Rude remarked absentmindedly, almost to himself.
Reno shrugged. "Don't know. But," he continued, "even with the Lifestream, or whatever the fuck that was, can't imagine that everyone survived."
"You'd think of all the people to live, we wouldn't be on the list," Rude mused.
Reno snorted and tapped his fingers nervously against his leg. "Yeah, if you look at it that way," he replied.
"How do you look at it then?" Rude asked, and Reno could hear him fiddling with the knobs to adjust the water temperature.
Choosing not to answer, Reno just said, "You better not use all the hot water. I'm not taking a cold shower, especially not after surviving the end of the goddamn world."
He could hear Rude laugh a little under his breath, but he wasn't dissuaded from his prior line of questioning.
"So?" he asked.
"What?" Reno replied irritably.
"How do you look at it?" Rude repeated his former question.
"Shit, Rude," he growled, "I don't care."
And all he could see right then was Rude's lax face, dried blood, pink water, explosions, dirt, body parts--and then he didn't know whether he was remembering a different event altogether.
Rude was right, though: they should be dead, probably deserved to be dead, but they weren't, so fuck it--
"I don't look at it any way," Reno finally spat, dropping his leg heavily to the ground and sitting up stalk straight. "We're not dead. You're not dead..." he swallowed hard.
"Could've been," Rude replied simply. "Makes you think."
Reno stood up. He could feel everything about boil over, listening to Rude question his own existence. He knew it wasn't out of guilt or self-loathing; it was just Rude, thinking out loud, something he did maybe once a year, and only to Reno, and only when they were alone. And the almost-apocalypse was as good a time as any to get philosophical.
But Reno had reached his limit. He hadn't had a cigarette in 24 hours, he could still smell blood on himself, the ash, and it grew more and more suffocating with every word Rude said, eclipsing the clean scent of escape and safety--of Rude being alive, really.
Reno jerked the shower curtain open with a metallic shriek and was faced with a surprised expression that only intensified when Rude took in the dark look on Reno's face.
He stepped right into the water in front of Rude so that they were inches apart, and Reno jabbed a finger at Rude.
"You're not fucking dead," he hissed angrily. He let his accusatory fingertip rest against Rude's chest tensely; Rude just stood his ground.
"And it does not make me 'think'..." Then he dropped his head and his hand at the same time, and let out a pained noise.
Rude just looked at him for a moment; felt the spray of the shower against his back, uncomfortably cold air hitting him from the front, and Reno standing there, getting wet, staring at the ground and looking more haggard than Rude had ever seen him.
"You're getting your clothes wet," he finally observed objectively. Reno jerked his head up to glare at his partner darkly.
"I don't fucking care," he growled. His hair was getting wet now too, his jacket already partially soaked. Rude ignored the enraged look.
"Take off your jacket," he said simply.
Reno blinked, taken off guard; he opened his mouth to reply and then closed it. Rude just waited patiently until finally, Reno shrugged his heavy, waterlogged jacket off and dropped it onto the bathroom floor behind them. He was no longer looking at Rude, his mouth clamped shut.
"Water's still warm," Rude said quietly, "won't be for much longer though."
He started to unbutton Reno's shirt, also wet now. Reno just stood there and let him do it, let Rude pull the shirt open and push it off of his shoulders and down his arms, deposited it onto the floor to join the jacket. Reno reached down and unzipped his own pants, shook them off and kicked them onto the floor too.
He stepped forward, and Rude gripped his shoulders and reversed their positions, closing the shower curtain again. Warm water washed over Reno's body, the dirt and grime running off of him in streams.
"Turn around," Rude said. Reno stayed quiet, biting his lip, and turned around with his back to Rude, facing the showerhead, with Rude standing behind him.
Rude snapped the band holding the tangled mass of his hair back, and finally Reno relaxed fractionally. He put both hands on the wall in front of him and dropped his head forward, letting the water soak his hair and run over his back.
Rude watched Reno's shoulder blades protrude as he leaned forward, studied the flat planes and angles of his body--strong, and seeming suddenly indestructible amidst the bruises and cuts, just as many healed scars there on his skin as new wounds.
Rude reached for the complimentary sized bottle of shampoo that he hadn't needed, clicked it open and poured some into his palm. Slowly, he pushed his hand into Reno's hair, expecting a protest; Reno just stayed there though.
Some of the tension left Reno's shoulders as Rude started to untangle it, removing bits of dirt and debris, and he pressed his fingers against his scalp, working in the shampoo. It smelled like plastic almost, like a strange foreign place; but somehow, it didn't matter, because it was Reno's hair. And it was Reno, standing there in front of him, quiet and perfectly still, the sound of the shower drowning out the silence.
Finally it ran smooth under the water, the red color there he was used to seeing, drenched and flattened against Reno's head. Reno had always looked different without that unruly mass of hair hanging in his face, somehow undone, as if a piece of him had been taken away, uncovered. It was the same way that Rude felt without his sunglasses when he was out in public.
"We're both filthy as fucking shit," he mumbled, running his fingers down the longer part and rinsing the filth out of that too.
Reno made a noise in his throat that sounded like agreement, but didn't say anything. When Rude pulled his hands away, he tilted his head slightly to let the water rinse away the soap.
Then Rude pushed Reno's hair to the side and ran a few fingers over his back. He picked up the soap, expecting Reno to make a joke any moment, laugh and tell him to stop being such a pansy about it, to get out of the shower and let him have the last of the hot water.
But Reno just breathed in sharply when he felt the cool bar of soap slide over his shoulders, the force of Rude's hand behind it, and then just his palm as he smoothed his hands over Reno's skin, washing the dirt and ash away. He handed the soap over Reno's shoulder, and Reno slicked it over the front of himself, scrubbing a little harder than he probably needed to.
Rude slid his fingers over Reno's slippery, soapy back, and then pushed his thumb gently against a shoulder blade. Reno just sighed and still didn't say anything, so he lifted his other hand and slowly started to ease his fingers over muscle, hard knots and tension.
"My entire fucking body hurts," Reno murmured when he felt the touch.
Rude wrapped a hand around one of Reno's shoulders and pulled it back so his shoulder blade lifted slightly, then ran his thumb gently against the tender places under the bone, carefully easing some of the tightness away. He did the other side, and then let go and ran his thumbs up the back of Reno's neck, pressing in lightly and kneading at the base of his skull.
"Feel good?" Rude asked quietly.
"Yeah," Reno replied, dropping his head further forward.
"Does it feel like I'm alive?" Rude asked, pausing to let his hands rest against Reno's shoulders.
"Yeah," Reno repeated in the same subdued voice.
Rude slid his hands down further, pushing with strong fingers against the small of Reno's back. Reno just breathed, focusing on Rude's hands, and Rude felt Reno's body slowly relax. Finally, he dropped his hands and Reno straightened after a moment.
He stood with his back to Rude while he rinsed off the rest of the dirt; and then it was as though Rude wasn't there. Even once all the grime and blood--both his and Rude's--had washed down the drain, and the water had started to go cold, he let his head hang and the shower spray over his back, dragging his hair over his shoulders heavily.
And when the water was close to unbearably freezing, Rude finally leaned around him and turned it off. Then there was a hand on his shoulder as Rude directed him out of the shower and handed him a towel; Reno numbly dried himself off, still not looking at Rude.
Then he dropped the towel and was already out the door, not bothering to cover himself up, and sat down on the edge of the bed. He rifled around for the only other pair of pants he had with him and pulled them on.
Finally he looked up at Rude who had flipped off the bathroom light and followed him out into the room, a towel wrapped loosely around his hips. His eyes did a quick once-over of Rude's body; miraculously, there were no other wounds that needed stitches.
"C'mere," Reno said simply. The faintest trace of a grimace passed over Rude's face as he saw Reno pull out a surgical needle and thread from the first aid kit they'd found in the room. He sat down next to Reno on the bed and braced himself.
Reno fixed the curved bit of metal into the needle driver, threaded it and slipped on the latex gloves from the kit. Rude was looking at it with an expression of half-stifled dread, though he didn't doubt Reno's ability to stitch him up. Reno's hands were steady when they needed to be, although Rude had always preferred to patch himself up.
Reno knew that too; it wasn't often Rude asked for help, so he must have been tired. Reno stood up and readied the needle.
"It's gonna hurt like a son of a bitch," he warned, meeting Rude's eyes. He held up a tube of topical anesthetic. "This shit is expired, but might as well try it." He twisted off the cap and smoothed some carefully around the cut on Rude's head.
"Have something I can bite down on?" Rude asked.
Reno looked around; the usual preferred item was a leather belt in a pinch, but they didn't have that.
"Hang onto me if you need to," he finally said. "Don't worry," he gave a humorless little laugh, "I won't slip."
Rude's hands were fisted, and then Reno felt a hand reach out to grip his leg.
"That's it," he said softly, poking where he'd applied the anesthetic. "Just hang on. Sorry man, this is bad. Can you feel that?"
Rude just grunted an acknowledgement that yes, he could indeed feel that.
"Besides," Reno continued, studying the wound carefully. "You've had worse. Remember this?" he asked, tapping his fingers on the back of Rude's shoulder. There was a good sized circular scar there. Reno had also been the one to sew that one up, almost solely because Rude couldn't reach that far around or see what he was doing. Rude was good at making sure other people were taken care of; he was good at taking care of himself, but he was terrible at asking for help, even when he knew he needed it.
"Yeah..." Rude agreed uncertainly. "Would just be nice to have something to bite on."
"I told you," Reno said, "just hang onto me." Reno braced himself for the strength of Rude's grip. It wasn't something to be taken lightly; it was Rude, after all. Although he was tired, and injured, and Reno was hoping he'd still have his leg when this was over. It was the only thing Rude could hang onto, lest he grab Reno's arm and end up with sutures in unintended places.
He slowly started to stitch the wound shut; Rude let out an uncomfortable sound, but didn't say anything. His grip started to tighten, but Reno just let him squeeze at his leg.
A few minutes later, and about three stitches in, Reno said, "I'm almost done. Three more."
Rude didn't answer; Reno felt like he had a tourniquet wrapped around his thigh where Rude was holding on, but he didn't say a word.
"You okay?" Reno paused and looked down at Rude.
Rude just grunted something that resembled a yes and let go of his leg. Reno sat down next to him on the edge of the bed and clapped him on the shoulder lightly.
"Sorry."
"Not your fault," Rude managed. His voice was heavy with pain.
"Not gonna pass out on me, right?"
Rude just raised a critical eyebrow at him. "No."
Reno raised his hands in the air and stood up. "Just checking, partner."
A low-pitched hmph was his response.
Reno readied the needle again and focused, putting all of his concentration into steadying his fingers.
Rude grabbed his leg again immediately. Reno started to drag the thread through for the final, torturous three stitches; he could feel Rude trying not to squeeze too hard.
"Look, man," he said, pulling the thread through slowly and carefully. "I know this fucking hurts. Hang onto me, damn it. Stop trying to be all stoic and shit."
The tourniquet-tight grip was back, and Reno could hear Rude let out a sharp, heavy breath, as if he'd been holding it in.
"Motherfucker," he finally hissed. Reno was relieved when he heard Rude let out the sharp curse. It took a lot for Rude to admit that he was in pain, but sometimes he needed to. They all needed to, in their own way, or else they'd go crazy.
"Done," he finally said with a relieved clip of the thread. Rude let go of him and took a deep breath. "Don't touch it," Reno added. He covered the stitches up with a bandage, gingerly smoothing the adhesive against the undamaged skin around the wound.
Reno stood up and peeled the gloves off of his hands, disposed of the needle and remaining thread. Then he walked back into the bathroom; Rude could hear the faucet running as he washed his hands.
The light flipped off again, and then Reno was standing in the doorway with his arms crossed, leaning there, as if he didn't know where to go. Rude just raised an eyebrow at him; after a moment, he stood up and moved to stand in front of Reno, openly studying his partner's expression.
"Thanks," he said finally.
Reno lowered his eyes to stare pointedly at Rude's shoulder and mumbled, "No problem."
"I'm alive," Rude said simply. He continued, "I didn't say I don't want to be. I--"
"I know," Reno interjected, his voice neutral. But after a few moments of Rude staring at him, he finally whispered, "Fuck." His hands fisted and his entire body tensed.
Rude closed the distance between them and wrapped an arm around Reno loosely.
"Fuckin' close call, though," Rude said quietly.
"Yeah," Reno replied numbly.
"You gonna stop acting like a shell-shocked mental patient now that we've established I'm alive?" Rude asked.
Reno blinked and then bristled, let out a curse, and then he heard Rude's low, almost inaudible laugh.
"Dick," Reno retorted, relaxing finally, "fuckin' should've left your ass in Midgar."
Rude laughed outright now and flicked Reno lightly in the back of the head. He kept laughing and drew closer, until his mouth was so near to Reno's neck, it was just a vibration against skin and warm breath.
Reno took a staggered, surprised breath. His mouth dropped open as he tried to say something, but his voice caught like a loose thread, and then he couldn't get any words out. Instead, he forced himself to breathe and inhaled deeply; smelled soap, water, Rude; then Rude drew away abruptly.
"You're alive," he finally said in a stupefied voice.
"Yeah," Rude murmured. "We're alive."
Reno ran nervous fingers through his damp hair, smoothing it away from his face, his neck tingling. He took a few steps back, and Rude just turned away as if nothing had happened (had something happened?) and planted himself on one of the beds with an angry squeak of the springs.
He laid down on his back and stared at the ceiling, then flicked his eyes back over at Reno. When he gingerly brushed his fingertips over the bandage covering the fresh stitches, Reno scowled and followed him.
"I thought I told you not to fucking touch that," he growled, the stunned expression on his face immediately replaced by agitation.
He was standing next to the bed now, and he grabbed Rude's hand and pushed it down to his side.
"That shit's gonna get infected," he said, crossing his arms over his chest authoritatively. Rude watched a stray drop of water make its way slowly down Reno's collarbone; he immediately looked away and felt panic surge through him, sudden and swift. He fought it down and kept his face neutral, but he could feel Reno's gaze turn from agitated to curious to cautious all in the span of a second.
He cursed internally. Reno could read him from 10 feet away with his back turned and wearing a pair of sunglasses.
So when Reno sat down on the edge of the bed, and pulled his eyes away from Rude's face to look at the floor with great interest, they both knew. But neither one said anything. Silent agreements were always the best kind, especially for Rude.
So he was surprised when Reno finally turned and laid down next to him, on his side, facing him. The springs in the bed squeaked again, but this time, it sounded like a scream to Rude, a shriek that signaled danger; his fingers twitched, craving leather wrapped around them securely. But all he had were his cut up fingers, his skinned knuckles, and a towel wrapped around his waist.
Then he felt Reno's hand alight on his shoulder unexpectedly. "It's cool," was all he said.
Rude openly stared at him. Reno just stared back; he didn't move his hand. Then he stroked his thumb in a tentative, tiny circle against Rude's skin. "Seriously," he added. "It's--"
"Yeah," Rude exhaled, interjecting as the tension drained from him.
"Yeah," Reno echoed and pulled his hand away.
They laid in silence for seconds that turned into minutes, until Rude was finally distracted by the feeling of exhaustion seeping into every part of him.
He blinked heavily, fatigue evident on his face. Reno poked him in the shoulder. "Can't do that yet."
"So you gonna wait this head wound bullshit out with me?" he asked, putting one hand under his head. He closed his eyes and stretched out, making a sleepy noise that sounded like a cross between a snore and a sigh.
Reno just nodded, staring at the wall, the very interesting faded paisley pattern of the bare mattress; anything except Rude's chest.
"Yeah," he said. "You gonna put on some pants?" he added.
"Wasn't planning on it," Rude replied easily, his eyes still closed.
Before replying, Reno thought carefully. He looked at Rude, took in the lines of him: all straight angles and bruises and his chest subtly expanding and breathing. Then he looked at the other bed on the opposite side of the room.
Rude could practically hear Reno thinking, and he knew, it was his job to make things easy. Always had been.
So when Reno finally rolled away from him, slowly, angling his legs to hit the floor, Rude grabbed his shoulder. He could feel Reno's entire body tighten, and Rude opened his eyes.
He pulled Reno onto his side again, and they faced each other; Reno's eyes were very blue, obvious, expressive. Panicked.
Stop wearing that goddamn expression on your face. Those were the words that he had said to his newly assigned partner the second day they had met. You're going to give yourself away, you dumb shit. Rude had ended up with a black eye and a few choice curses thrown his way. That was the day he knew that he liked Reno, that they could work together without any inconvenient internal homicides.
It was never Reno's job to hide what he was thinking. Reno talked; Rude didn't. Reno keyed people up; Rude killed them without a word.
So of course, he was doing a piss poor job of concealing what he was thinking at that moment.
"It's cool," Rude said softly, echoing Reno's words. His hand on Reno's shoulder tightened. "Just shut up, and stay here."
Reno opened his mouth and shut it. His eyes widened a fraction, they darted down to Rude's chest again and then looked up even more guilty than before. He swallowed hard.
"Stop wearing that goddamned expression," Rude said, withdrawing his hand.
And then after a tense moment, Reno grinned earnestly.
"You dumb shit," he whispered back.
Rude just let his lips quirk faintly. "Yeah," he replied.
Reno snorted a little and rolled onto his back, relaxing finally. "Now I really need a cigarette."
Rude reached out unexpectedly and pushed his hand inside the pocket of Reno's pants. Reno let out a startled noise, but then Rude's hand was hovering in front of his face.
"You gotta be fuckin' kidding me," Reno's voice held a sense of awe as he stared at the brand new pack of cigarettes dangling from Rude's fingers.
"You can't keep track of shit," Rude said as he dropped the pack onto Reno's bare chest with a mild smack. Reno seized the box, gripping so hard he nearly crushed it, and feverishly tore off the cellophane and foil. His fingers shook in anticipation as he pulled out a cigarette and scrambled for his lighter; it was smoldering almost before it even reached his mouth, and then his entire body relaxed, boneless, as he took the first drag and exhaled slowly.
"What would you do without me?" Rude snorted, plucking the pack of cigarettes off of Reno's chest where they had been dropped again and set them on the table with the lighter. Reno rolled back onto his side to face Rude.
"I don't know, partner," he replied quietly, then shifted a few inches forward and very slowly reached out to let his hand rest on Rude's hip. He closed his eyes, took another drag, and his fingers tightened. "I really don't know."