Busted

Busted

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We're too cool to be alone
But, not too crazy to get busted—Matchbox 20, Busted

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Contrary to popular opinion, Reno was not stupid. He lacked respect for certain things—situations he was not allowed to solve with explosives, for example—and he possessed the possible personality flaw of fatal honesty. But he didn’t rise to the position of second in command of the Turks by being an idiot. Very little got by him. Everything was observed, snagged, and cataloged by a brain that had frightened more than one mental health professional into early retirement.

And so he was sure Rude was up to something. At first he chalked it up to the Great Mail Heist, in which his and Cloud’s attempt at keeping their private lives private had run afoul of their friends’ determination to throw them the wedding of the century. After all, mail fraud took time and determination. But if anything, it had gotten worse after the wedding.

Or better. It depended on one’s perspective; his partner looked almost obscenely sated these days. Reno loaded up the coffee pot for a second go round. ShinRa’s most talented profiler did not get by on an empty tank, after all. The man of the hour walked by him and snagged a cup.

“New shades, partner?”

“Old ones, a spare. Can’t find mine for the life of me. Pissin’ me off.”

Click. Into the database.

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At the end of the work day, Reno’s conscious mind alone had cataloged no less than a dozen new behavior patterns in Rude. He hurried to consult with Midgar’s other gifted investigator, one who thankfully had his beer open for him by the time he arrived.

He kissed Cloud and took a grateful swig of the cold foamy beverage. “I have a challenge for you. One of our mail thieves is still acting like a subversive.”

“Do tell.” Cloud pulled out his laptop.

“What are you doing?”

“Making a spreadsheet. My nerdiness knows no bounds. Tell me more.”

“This morning he claimed he lost his sunglasses. Was wearing an old pair.”

Cloud was impressed.

“He spent lunch somewhere besides the office. Actually left the building. He’s been doing that for weeks.” Keys clicked madly. “Been getting lots of phone calls. The man never talks! How does he get that many fucking phone calls?”

“What happens afterward?”

“No pattern. Sometimes he comes back in, sometimes he leaves. Sometimes he gets on the computer, shuts his door. He printed off a huge bunch of stuff once and then asked for vacation time. But as for the calls themselves? He usually takes it outside so I can’t hear.”

“Imagine that.” Reno let that one go; Cloud’s second language was sarcasm. Sometimes he actually acted as if he had a point.

“He came back from lunch today with his tie wrinkled.”

“Whaaaaaaaaat?” Cloud missed a keystroke. “And where is he, by the way? I’d like to see what he has to say for himself.”

________________________

What Rude had to say for himself at that moment was unintelligible, though very enthusiastic, and would have to be interpreted around a mouthful of Vincent Valentine’s equally enthusiastic tongue. They were still in the front seat of Rude’s car going at it like teenagers.

It had, after all, been since lunch.

Vincent moved on to the piercings in Rude’s ear, then down the side of his neck, muttering something about the man being a feast.

“I have something you can feast on. Let’s get inside.”

“Why?” The glint in the crimson eyes was unmistakable and eerily familiar. “Let’s do it here.” He was already unzipping Rude’s pants. There were a million reasons this was a bad, really bad idea: two large men in a sedan, though a full size one, the fact it was probably illegal in full view of the rest of the parking garage…

That was as far as Rude got. Aside from Vincent’s natural ability to make anything seem like a perfectly reasonable plan at the time, he was now sucking Rude’s dick and that canceled out anything short of actually being shot at. Currently. At that moment. The warmth of Vincent’s mouth in the cool afternoon made Rude forget what he was going to say, if anything so he just reclined the seat and relaxed.

Sometimes, with Vincent, you just had to go with it.

It felt so good, so incredibly good to be touched like this. Vincent had nearly the whole of him in his mouth now—gods the man was talented, not to mention flexible—and was working the head with the tip and side of his tongue while his hand, at first pressed against his base from the outside of his pants, was now beginning to tighten and move against his shaft as his mouth moved up, increasing suction and friction as it went.

Rude’s only warning was a tightening fist in Vincent’s hair, a tense groan as he saw stars, his climax was so intense. By the time he returned to his senses, his pants were zipped and the only sign anything whatsoever had happened was his lover’s satisfied smirk.

“I believe that a bit more than your tie is wrinkled this time, Rude.” He waited until he was sure his legs worked, and followed him inside.

___________________________

“Okay, we agreed, no serious snooping, right?”

“Define serious.” Cloud was typing again. Reno looked over his shoulder while nibbling on a piece of home made bread; Cloud was on a baking kick again.

“Rules of engagement? Gaia, you are…attentive to detail. I mean, no going through desk drawers, hacking into the ShinRa phone GPS to see where my partner is when I say he’s missing…”

“Who would hack into ShinRa computer files?”

“I have no idea who, in this household, would do such a thing, Cloud Strife.” His look was pointed.

“And you can’t go through his wallet or follow him?”

“Yeah, that’s cheating. We just have to base it on behavior. That’s what we do.”

“I wonder if I should ask Vincent. He used to be a Turk.”

“Where’d he disappear to anyway, after the wedding? You two used to be inseparable.”

“Hmmm.” Cloud was distracted by his typing but looked up. “Damn good question. Guess he’s just giving us space and all, but it’s not like we hadn’t been living together for a year. But you’re right, I haven’t seen him in ages. I should see what he’s up to.”

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What Vincent was up to, so to speak, was being blown by Rude in the oversized shower of the condo. They had discussed having the favor returned in the car but the steering wheel and the Turk’s greater bulk had proved to be practical obstacles that even Vincent could not plot past.

“I think…” He stopped to catch his breath on a gasp. “Rude! Gods, I may fall down.” He was close to his peak, so close that only the shower wall behind him kept him upright. Rude pressed one soapy finger up into his entrance, gently massaging until he found that one spot that would bring his lover down in pure ecstasy. Vincent bent over in a keening wail, emptying himself into Rude’s mouth.

“Sweet Shiva, you are good at that.”

“I do try.” He caught Vincent as he slid bonelessly down the wall, and pushed the wet hair back from his face. “Hmmm…this is nice. Until we run out of hot water.”

“Speaking of hot water, how long do you think until they get suspicious?” he got up to turn off the shower and returned with two warm fluffy towels. They collapsed into Vincent’s oversized bed.

“Soon. They aren’t dumb and if nothing else, we just haven’t seen them in a while. You and Cloud used to go out quite a bit.”

Vincent winced. Not only was it a red flag, he felt guilty for neglecting his friend. “I’ll call him. Be scarce this weekend. Maybe you could pack up your apartment.”

Rude raised his eyebrows. “Is that an invitation?”

“It’s me talking you into doing something else insane.”

______________________

Cloud sat at Vincent’s kitchen bar, drinking a microbrew; mass produced beer would naturally never grace the custom drinking glasses of the Valentine kitchen. “I was wondering when you were going to surface again.”

“Was just giving the newlyweds a chance to settle in.”

“Bullshit, we lived together a year before you and Rude busted into my mailbox.”

Vincent turned around, sipped his wine. “I’m processing some things.”

“I’m here. If you need me. You know that, right?”

“I know, and I feel like shit for not calling.”

“Don’t.” He watched his friend reach into the wine cabinet for a refill. Vincent Valentine was the only person he knew with a wine refrigerator and a wine cabinet. Apparently nothing was supposed to be kept at room temperature. Whatever. If Cloud was drunk enough to be hitting the wine, he was just happy if the spigot on the box worked.

“When did you get a wine refrigerator?”

“You always keep whites in the refrigerator.”

“You don’t drink whites.”

“I keep them for guests.”

You don’t have guests. He didn’t say it aloud, but it was damn sure going in the spreadsheet when he got home.

That’s when he saw it, at first thinking nothing of it. But damn it, Reno was rubbing off on him. Not just the nosiness, but the Turk tendency to absorb and organize details profiles. He had a case to solve.

After all, a pair of sunglasses wasn’t an odd thing to find on someone’s kitchen counter.

Was it?

Except that Vincent also didn’t wear sunglasses. He snapped a picture when Vincent wasn’t looking and sent it to Reno.

_______________________

“You are fucking awesome, yo. I cannot believe you busted Valentine. Vincent Fucking Valentine.”

“Actually, Vincent is fucking Rude, from the looks of it.” He kept typing.

“Please, I may be scarred for life if I think about that too much. Do you think he noticed?”

“I asked a couple of pointed questions. I’m pretty sure he knows I’m on to him but he’s not stupid, he knows we aren’t stupid. They both have to realize we’d you know…figure it out.”

“Vincent. Rude. You’re right, it fits. They both dropped off the map at the same time, right when they started stealing our mail. Never resurfaced. Neither of them talks much so them not letting on isn’t out of character. Rude’s family lives out of town so him leaving weekends wouldn’t be unusual.”

“Hmm. Does Rude drink wine?”

“Yes. Sauvignon blanc, when he isn’t drinking beer. Man, I feel like I just busted a government conspiracy. Are you sure you won’t work for us?”

“Absolutely. What does that stuff taste like?”

“My opinion? Horse piss. Each to his own. Damn, let’s celebrate.”

They went to Seventh Heaven to see Rude wearing his preferred sunglasses. They toasted their victory and sent down a glass of sauvignon blanc for Rude, bribing Tifa to feign ignorance of it’s origin.

It was a good night.

______________________

The cat was out of the bag finally when the Turks had weekend assignment at the end of that month. Coincidentally, Vincent was free to go out with Cloud.

Cloud was quite proud of himself that he sounded surprised over the phone and why, yes, Reno would be out of town so he would be free too. The friends met for a long bike ride out to a bar on the lake. It was popular with bikers for its scenic location, and was out of the way enough that they could kick back and have an actual conversation without being interrupted by any number of mutual friends.

“How have you been? I mean really. On your, you know, processing.”

Vincent sipped his beer. Biker bars were not known for their proper temperature merlot selections. “It’s going well. I’m…settling in, I guess you could say. For a long time I was just angry that my life had been so brain bleeding awful. And then…you get used to that. You almost don’t want it to stop being awful because you don’t know what you’ll live on. And then when you figure it out, well. It takes a while, to figure it out. If that makes sense.”

It made sense. Cloud could have added a few chapters to that book, possibly done the bibliography and an appendix or two.

“And I’m seeing someone.”

“I know.” Cloud fought a smile at the seriousness of Vincent’s confession.

“I assumed you would. At some point. I wasn’t trying to hide it but I didn’t really know how to say it either.”

“You don’t have to give me daily bulletins on your sex life, Vincent.” He felt briefly guilty about the spreadsheet. Very briefly.

They were quiet for a while. “It’s just easier some days than it is others. This whole, regular life thing.”

Cloud laughed. An honest joyous laugh. “Oh Vincent. That won’t ever change. Just…give the man back his sunglasses next time.”

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It was the only time worth a shit on a weekend assignment. The quiet time at the beginning of the evening when one of them was just settling down to sleep and the other was settling down to first watch.

“So whatcha up to the next few weekends, partner?”

“Next weekend, gonna go visit my ma. Taking Friday off and making it a long one. Weekend after that…”

Reno looked at his partner’s face. It reminded him of a cartoon he had seen once, of an overly hairy man in a doctor’s office. The doctor held one end of an adhesive bandage and said “Do you want it in a series of excruciating jerks or one agonizing rip?”

Rude was of the “one agonizing rip” school.

“Moving. I’ve been…seeing someone. We’re moving in together.”

Reno didn’t have to fake surprise. “Wow. I figured out the seeing someone part but had no idea it was that serious.”

“It is.” Rude rubbed his forehead. “Fuck.”

“Partner, I am the expert on shit like that sneaking up on you.” He still remembered the moment he looked down in his bed and realized he could not live without the blond sleeping next to him. The realization had broken his heart. He knew whatever friendly competition he had with Cloud over their spreadsheet, he did not have it in him to tease Rude about what he was feeling now. He knew what it was.

“It’s Vincent.”

“We got that already. You two were up against the best, yo.”

“We….gods, you two are frightening.” Rude went to sleep, leaving Reno to his watch.

_______________________________

Nothing was said the next Monday. Life quietly returned to normal and if one of Rude’s pictures of his mother might have had a figure in the background that resembled a barefoot Vincent, no one mentioned it at ShinRa. Rude tucked the picture into his bulletin board without comment.

And the next weekend, the Strife family was even on hand to help Rude move.