Mail Fraud

Mail Fraud

__________________

Come on and lay it down
I've always been with you
Here and now
Give all that's within you
Be my savior
And I'll be your downfall—Matchbox 20, Downfall

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The one thing that Rude remembered, dimly, over the few beer soaked brain cells still capable of holding a conversation, was that Vincent Valentine was an evil fucking genius.

The warning had come years ago. Years before it became relevant, years before he would be holding a flashlight for Vincent over his partner’s mailbox. He recalled Reno making the statement in passing as they discussed the conundrum of the former Turk.

“I dunno, all Cloud says, and they’re thick as thieves, is that Vincent will put you up to shit and the next thing you know, you’re running around behind him doing it like it’s your idea and you have no clue why you’re out like a maniac on some cockbrained plan, but you are and he looks at you like you’re nuts. Like, why are you doing this? And you’re too retarded to go yo, it was your idea!”

Rude wished he’d listened. The lock pick made a snicking sound; Vincent held up a standard government envelope and grinned. A full on grin that Rude, that no one on the planet had ever seen and that Rude would have lost any amount of gil saying it did not exist. His heart and stomach and places farther south did a funny flip flop thing.

“We are so cool. But what are we doing out here, Rude? This is so insane.”

_________________________

Two weeks earlier…

“So did you two have fun at the Art Fair?” Tifa handed out drinks to the usual post work crowd, finally getting down to the end of the bar and her friends.

“Yeah. Reno got me this.” Cloud showed off what they had privately started calling their engagement bracelet.

“Oh, that’s pretty! Special occasion?” Her voice held a teasing note.

“Not really. He just didn’t know my ring size.” Wait for it. Wait…for…it…

The screech, when it happened, could have shattered every glass in the bar. Vincent paused in the act of walking in the door to press his hand to his forehead, he shared a sympathetic glance with Rude and headed for the seat next to him, the only empty one in the bar.

“What, pray tell, was that?”

“Judging from the decibel level, I think our boys just got engaged. Or, she saw a dead body.”

“I think she’s seen enough dead bodies that she’d just lie about not being able to lift it and make us do all the work. Gods, that was unpleasant.”

They looked down the bar and Tifa was apparently trying to smother Cloud with her breasts. “So, did you set a date? Are you registered anywhere?”

“Tifa. Off. Down in front, I can’t breathe. No, we haven’t planned anything whatsoever, dudes don’t do that. We barely pick our socks.”

“Hmph. Some of us pick our socks just fine. Didn’t you date her, for about ten minutes?” Vincent looked over his wine glass.

“I was interested in a couple aspects of her personality. It didn’t last long.” Women never interested Rude for long. Men, on the other hand…when had Vincent stopped wearing that damn cape? He hadn’t been out in this part of Edge for a while, had he? “I haven’t seen you for a while.”

“I just moved back. Bought a condo over on Fifth.”

“Nice complex.”

“It’s amazing what assets accumulate when you leave them alone for thirty years.”

Rude choked on his beer. Vincent obviously had a twisted sense of humor.

He liked it.

Tifa walked up and kissed Rude on the cheek. “So, they aren’t going to do anything, apparently. I just feel like we should throw them a party. Do something, you know?”

“We will, babe. Not sure what, but we’ll know what to do when we see it.”

She refilled their drinks and walked off to wait on more customers. “You two seem to get along pretty well for exes.”

“We do. We parted friends. I don’t know what I was thinking anyway. I apparently wasn’t. I don’t normally date women.” He had no clue why he needed to tell Vincent that. Did he?

“My track record on the other hand is positively stellar.” Zing! He was really really starting to like Vincent. Perhaps more than he felt comfortable with.

Three rounds later, he had Vincent’s phone number and no clue what he was going to do with it. Vincent Valentine had a phone and he had the number. Score.

_________________________________

Tseng’s summons came as a surprise.

“Do you know anything about a wedding?”

“Reno? As far as I know he isn’t having one. They are just…ambiguously engaged.”

“He has filed a change of family status for the insurance. It requires at least an application with the courthouse. I received a copy of the initial paperwork today. I was just curious as to whether we should do something, but if there are no plans, I’ll let it be.”

He took out his phone.

______________________________

The eyes nearly matched the color of the wine in the glass.

“The application is filed electronically but the license is mailed. The old fashioned way. Yes, welcome to the world of low technology. It then has to be finalized by a notary public.”

“And?”

“We can steal it from his mail box. Isn’t Elena a notary?”

“But that’s mail fraud?”

Vincent ran one gold claw through the silk of his hair, unbound and falling past his shoulders. They had met at a small outdoor bar, away from Seventh Heaven, the bustling crowd providing more privacy than total solitude. He appeared to briefly pray for patience.

“Rude, you are a Turk. Remember? You routinely practice everything from torture to murder to extortion to kidnapping on a daily basis. And you’re balking at mail fraud?” He sighed. “When did you say this was applied?”

“Tuesday.”

“Good, the mail service is terrible, always has been. We’ll start tonight. You contact your ex girlfriend.” He said it like he had just tasted inferior brie. “I’ll call Tseng.”

“Okay.” Wait, what?

That night, after they finished drinking at Seventh Heaven to keep up appearances for Reno and Cloud, they dressed in all black and broke into the mailbox. It was the first of two weeks of nightly dates between the men.

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Several days in, they established a routine. They would go to Vincent’s condo and change because it was closer to Cloud and Reno’s loft. Rude would stand entranced, hoping his sunglasses—and a long baggy shirt—hid most of his sins, as Vincent braided back his hair and covered his gauntlet with a long black leather glove. He bragged about how Cloud had turned him onto a custom leather shop that made the thing and how much he loved it. Rude could not have cared less if Vincent had bought it off the rack at the drug store, but the smell of leather in the small dressing room and Vincent clad in tight tactical pants and a slim turtleneck was making him warm. And insane. A good insane. Between a full work day, his drinking at the bar, his second career as a mail thief, and his new hobby of creating twisted sweaty sheets at night, he was working on less than four hours of sleep.

“Ready to go?” Vincent handed him a flashlight and pocketed a set of lock picks.

He’d never felt better.

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Vincent pulled the envelope out with the care of a brain surgeon removing a bullet. They slipped down the street like the thieves they were and hid in Rude’s car, parked in a nearby alley.

“We did it, Rude. We fucking did it.” The word “fuck” coming from Valentine’s patrician mouth sounded impossibly naughty, made Rude feel naughty too, even though he usually conjugated the word on an hourly basis himself.

Nights were just turning chilly in Edge and he could almost see Vincent’s breath over his blinding white grin. He felt giddy. “What do we do?”

“Take it to Tifa. We’ll decide on a time and tell Cloud they have to come to the bar to get married. Elena can notarize it. We are geniuses, I swear.”

“Wait, this was your idea, I’m just here to carry the flashlight!” Rude couldn’t help it, he was laughing. Cloud had been right, all those years ago. Vincent just…kidnapped you, somehow. They stopped, locked eyes.

“Cloud told Reno once you made people do insane things.”

“Did he now? I shall have to talk to the boy about that.”

The kiss, when it came, shocked Rude down to his soul. He remembered thinking that Vincent’s mouth was the softest thing he had ever felt.

“Put up that damn license where we won’t lose it. Two weeks of foreplay is enough, damn it all.” Rude started the car.

“You too? Gods. Don’t wreck.”

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“I still can’t believe I don’t have all of this unpacked.” He glared at the boxes.

“Vincent, I’ve been in your apartment for two weeks, and now I care about the décor even less. Shit…where did we leave that license?”

“Console of your car.” They were already undressed and halfway back to the bedroom; they hadn’t even turned on the lights. They’d been working together in the dark so long now, they were used to it. Vincent traced the tattoos on Rude’s chest and back., first with his finger and then with his tongue. “Mmmmm…Unlike you I couldn’t steal glances behind sunglasses. Lovely.” Any comment Rude might have made in his own defense, no matter how lame, was swallowed up by his lover’s mouth as he was pulled down onto Vincent’s bed.

He raised his head for a good, shameless ogle. Vincent was slimmer than he usually appeared when clothed, but muscular. His perfect face sported full lips now bruised by Rude’s attentions. “My turn to look.” He leaned down to kiss again, gentler now, gathering up handfuls of soft hair like he’d wanted to do that first night. Vincent ground up into him, their erections touching now; Rude wrapped his arms around him to grind harder. “Mmm…did you happen to unpack…”

His tongue was otherwise occupied, working its way down Rude’s abdominal muscles, but his eyes glanced up to the bedside table. Rude managed to get the bottle out of the drawer and then nearly dropped it when Vincent’s mouth closed around him.

He stopped breathing. He wasn’t sure what it felt like to be struck by lightning, but he was getting pretty close to the sensation, he was sure. And he was even more sure he’d never gotten a blow job like this in his life. “S…stop. Need…stop.” Ok, he’d never been much of a wordsmith but Valentine was turning him flat out Neanderthal.

Not that he was complaining. And he didn’t argue, not that anyone ever did with this man. By the time Vincent finally took the lube out of his paralyzed hand, applied it with great skill to Rude’s erection, and lowered himself on him, he was pretty sure he’d been struck dumb anyway.

“Rude, you are beautiful.”

“Vince…” Okay, he was up to single syllables. This was good. Deciding not to push his luck, he pulled Vincent down for a rough kiss.

This was not going to last very long. Rude felt his control slipping, fast, but he also saw that beautiful mouth that had smiled so enticingly, earlier, pulled back in an animal grimace. He felt Vincent begin to tremble, and then cry out, spilling against his naked chest. The sight, the feeling pushed him past his own edge and he groaned into his own climax, trying to catch his breath and failing at it for what seemed like a very long time.

So much for the unflappable Vincent Valentine. Rude was awed. Vincent slipped down beside him and kissed him. “That was wonderful, Rude.”

“Yes. Let’s take Tifa the license in the morning.”

It was a whole sentence. He felt like cheering.

_________________________________

Seventh Heaven had never seen such a party.

Vincent had called Cloud; even Rude hadn’t been able to keep a straight face as he informed his friend that his marriage license had in fact been stolen and if he wanted to marry Reno he would have to do it in public. And so Reno and Cloud had entered the bar with all of their friends cheering them on. The usual welcome mat had been replaced with some obscenity sporting wedding bells and doves. Tifa had covered every square inch of space with banners and balloons and everything she could find at the local party goods store.

They signed the license with huge feathered pens and did shots afterward. Elena was on hand to notarize the signatures. Cid gave them a penis shaped bottle of tequila for a wedding present, but no one was reading anything into that.

“I’ll pay you to write that thank you note for me, Vin.”

“No.”

“How, in the name of Gaia, did you pull this off?”

“We broke into your mailbox.”

“That’s mail fraud!”

“That’s what Rude said.”

“You convinced Rude to go along with this? Gods, you never change. Your evil genius knows no bounds. But thank you. I didn’t know how to ask for this, neither of us did, but it’s exactly what we wanted.” Reno was drunk enough to start eyeing the present from Cid. Cloud moved to intervene.

Vincent looked over the crowd. “I think my evil genius is exactly what it needs to be.” He made his way to Rude’s side and whispered something that made the bald man laugh deeply. They waved at the happy newlyweds and slipped unnoticed out the back door of the bar.