The characters featured belong to Square Enix. I'm a broke college kid that owns a computer named Toe and that's about it.

And, Alana you rock my spaceboots.

-----------------------------------------------------------

"Riku, get your ass in here!"

Unfortunately, said Riku was too busy dreaming to hear his editor's voice penetrating through his office's glass doors and echoing loud enough that seven or eight reporters actually paused to make sure Cid was not yelling at them. Still, the silver haired man slept on. Beneath his desk his leg kicked much like a puppy's would as it dreamed of running in golden fields. He grunted, and rutted around for a few more minutes until hands grabbed the back of his chair and shook it violently.

Riku jerked up and slammed his palms on the desk and looked wildly around to see if anyone else was experiencing the earthquake. To his chagrin, his chair was the only chair that shimmied like an overweight Burlesque dancer. Severely overweight to the point of a 'yo momma' joke.

"You're drooling on your camera, boy." That had the photographer wiping his face with the sleeve of his shirt and frantically checking his camera over. Cid's laughter and big hand clapping on his shoulder only had Riku scowling. There were two important things about Riku that any Riku-handler would have to know. One, there was no touching his camera, and two, there was no joking around or about said camera. (She was very sensitive.)

"About time you effin' woke up. What do I look like? Someone who runs a nursery? Shit, no. I can't handle the effin' brats. Disgusting little twits that drool. Do I look like the kind o' man who'd be changing some little shitter's diapers?" With his arms folded over his chest like that, Cid looked the part of the 'doesn't-take-shit' editor of the Traverse Times. Even when he edited himself because Shera gave him an ultimatum, either he drop the 'f-word' or she packs her bags. Which Cid knew that she would not leave, and Shera knew that Cid would not stop cussing, but they both figured it was worth a shot.

"No, Cid. You would never change someone's diapers," the question had been rhetorical but Riku could not help but reply with a smirk. The sarcasm was lost on Cid as he nodded and muttered a 'damn skippy I don't.' Satisfied that Riku would not try to fall asleep in his presence the blond man handed him his new assignment and clapped his shoulder.

Riku's eye twitched and he tried to hunch in with the attempt to minimize the brutal force, but that did not stop Cid's powerful 'I'm-not-gay' pat. The photographer decided that there were two types of touching in a man's world. The 'I'm-not-gay' pat or hug, which consists of a loose hug and lots of clapping on the back. In theory, the hugger would be able to hug and still seem straight as long as he beat the huggee to death. And, there was the 'I'm-totally-gay' hug which consisted of a full-body hug. Similar to the kind of hugs that girls give. Riku was a 'I'm-totally-gay' hugger, but he certainly did not appreciate Cid's dose of 'I'm-not-gay' patting. The photographer was not going to jump someone's bones just because they were of the same sex.

Besides, Cid was old and a smoker. Riku hated smokers.

Once his editor was gone, he squinted and read his new mission. (He felt if he called them missions then it was like he was a super hero, which made stalking starlets and celebutants not quite so lame.) According to this paper he'd be put on Gullwing duty. Which was fine. It was only the busiest strip of bars in Traverse Town and was definitely the most notorious for having underage starlets misbehaving in the streets. Though, he could not help but have a little sigh of defeat because he'd gotten his degree in photography because he'd wanted to take pictures of nature and beautiful things not to photograph a concrete world where beautiful creatures destroyed themselves. But, art didn't pay the bills and stupid children did, so he was stuck.

"Hey, Riku. Will I see you on Dragon's--"

"Gullwing."

"Hey man. That's great! You get to hang out with Kairi and Naminé and--"

"Axel you know we aren't supposed to contact them, right? We're just supposed to take pictures." Riku was almost out of the door-- almost, but that delinquent with a serious character flaw had to open his mouth and laugh. He laughed. Riku turned around, his fist tightening up as Axel leaned over the little wall that separated his desk from Riku's.

"This is why I get all the front page pictures and you get all of the 'Joe-Schmo just rescued this the pretty little kitty from the big tall tree.' Get real man. Photographers follow the rules and paparazzi go the distance."

Riku wanted to argue that he was a photographer, but the grinning redhead made him want to get a front page picture for once. Just so he could prove that photographers can get the shot too. Instead of telling Axel to go shove his face in a blender, he opted to shake his head and push the door open and leave.

Usually, the good photos opportunities happened at night, so Riku had a chance to go home, shower, and change before nighttime snuck up on him. And that was when he found himself hanging out in front of Atlantica, which was rumored to be the celebutants' new favorite club. He surveyed the long line of paparazzi who had gathered near the wrought iron gates, and spied a flaming mass of red. He couldn't help but curse under his breath. Axel was once of the best out there, and he was a weasel. Though, Riku really couldn't fault the man's character. He was just doing his job, and that was exactly what Riku was doing.

Flash. Flash. Flash. Flash. Flash.

It was customary to have pictures of the starlets going in the club, and then the more notorious ones of them coming out of the club completely wasted and causing havoc. Now that the first pictures had been taken, the photographers could either wait around for a couple of hours (getting wasted never took long) or they could take their chances and drive around for another location. Though leaving could cause problems because it could be hard to get the exact same spot as before. Generally, Riku didn't leave.

Until Axel grabbed his shoulder and murmured, "let me show you how to get the real pictures."

They packed away the bigger cameras in favor of using smaller, more discreet digital cameras and then they were on their way sneaking into the club. Which wasn't as hard as Riku thought it would be. He simply had to show his ID to prove that he was at least twenty-one. (He was twenty-five, but that did not stop the little surge of masculinity at having to prove he was legal.) Though, he was certain they got in a little easier because Axel was smooth-talking the bouncer, but Riku couldn't hear exactly what was being said. He did see the passing of some hundreds and shook his head. Hell, he could barely afford rent let alone a tip for the bouncer.

Atlantica had a sea-theme, but Riku was not surprised. Back when he enjoyed watched Disney movies (last Saturday was a fluke, by the way) he remember vaguely that one of the movies had mermaids and water and something like that. Eighteen was too long ago to remember properly.

The walls were blue and painted with green seaweed with some brightly colored fish that Riku decided if they had been frogs they would be the deadly, poisonous kind. The lights that flashed gave the room a feel that they were underwater, and on several raised stages were women dressed as mermaids. All-in-all, Riku could totally see why the starlets were drawn to this place. It was bright, and interesting. He was pretty sure that he would come here if he had a billion dollar mother or father.

"Axel, you faggot, why haven't I seen you around?"

Riku spun around to stare wide-eyed at the redhead and his new blond companion. The kid was cute, Riku would give him that, but there was far too much danger in the kid's stance. His feet were slightly apart and his arms folded across his chest. The posture seemed to scream defiance. It was humorous to see calm and collected Axel with his palms outward in a submissive posture. He was afraid of this kid. Though, to be honest Riku would have been afraid of him too. He was not really hip on the culture, but he was pretty sure that this little hornet's nest was Roxas. Who was the lead singer of some all blond group called Oblivious… Oblivion… Obli… something. He only knew that because his little brother Yazoo had a poster of them in his room.

"You know how my job is, Roxy-Baby."

Riku couldn't help but snort in laughter and thankfully the pulsating music covered his snicker so neither the redhead or the blond would hear him. He was surprised about the exchange between Roxas and his coworker, because Axel had made it painfully clear that he was straight. Hell, the redhead could barely keep his hands off of the women in the office, but now that behavior seemed a little odd. Sure, Axel made comments and pretended to be a womanizer, but Riku was pretty sure that Axel had never actually mentioned dating a woman or sleeping with one.

"Is that why you're here? So you can take pictures?"

Riku left his fumbling friend in favor of the bar. He'd let Axel work that little problem out. It was never a good idea to impose on any relationship. Especially if the members of said relationship were talking. Talking never meant talking. Talking should be called bitching. Riku had had his fair share of 'talkers.' Which was why he was beginning to find that he twitched every time he was set up with a man who acted like a woman. He didn't want a chick with a dick. He wanted a man. Relationships were about give and take not about giving and taking it.

Frankly, he was a bit of a conservative if that were possible. His family had been the white picket fence type. In all honesty, he wanted the American dream. A househusband, and lots of children. Well, all right. His husband could work if he wanted to, Riku wasn't that conservative. He was homosexual for crying out loud. But, not that any of it mattered. His lovely country was far from legalizing gay marriage, even though it was making steps towards that.

They were making leaps and bounds actually. For the first time in history his state elected a homosexual governor. His name was Squall Leonhart and he looked like he wasn't fucking around. Riku was pretty sure Mr. Leonhart could hold his own if someone tried to jump him in an alleyway. Just the other day Squall was on the news and there had been a family picture of him, his partner and their two children. Riku couldn't remember the details on the children, only that there was a boy and a girl and the boy was about three or four years younger than him and the girl was seventeen, maybe? The same age or older than Yazoo.

"Hey! How hard is it think over the music?"

Riku couldn't help but jump in surprise. Someone was speaking to him. In his ear! It was kind of cute, but it was totally the music's fault. Riku put his glass to his lips so he could use the pretense of drinking if he didn't want to reply to whoever was speaking to him. The liquid sloshed against his lips and burned down his throat. He'd completely forgotten to swallow and was now choking.

Concerned blue eyes watched him frantically search for breath, but it was so hard to breath over a stinging throat, watering eyes and that face. His nostrils flared and he continued to cough until he could finally take deep breaths and calm himself. Way to be smooth.

The guy's hand patted his back as he tipped his head closer. Riku put his hand on the brunet's chest so he could push him back just a little. It was easier to breath if he wasn't so close. It was bad enough he felt like the guy's blue eyes would swallow him whole.

"Hey, are you okay? I didn't mean to startle you like that."

"I-I'm," gasp, "fine."

The brunet looked dubious but sat on the stool next to Riku. He leaned forward and asked the bartender for a class of water for his friend. Riku was too busy watching his ass, and the arch of his body over the countertop to disagree. It wasn't like the guy was underdressed. He was wearing jeans and a black button-up shirt that was pressed and ironed. The kid was classy that much was certain. The crisp black shirt rode up enough to show the dip and curve of his sun-darkened belly, and Riku decided that he was in lust.

"Sorry about that," Blue Eyes sat on his stool properly much to Riku's dislike and pushed the glass in front of him. The photographer took the glass and drank enough to clear his burning throat. Kind and cute.

Riku shook his head and tried to give a smile. Blue Eyes seemed to brighten just because he smiled. Oh yes, he was definitely falling head-over-heels in lust. This kid was probably terminally straight. That's how these things worked for Riku. It was called Murphy's Law. Anything that could go wrong would go wrong.

"So you didn't answer me. How can you think with all this noise?"

He was still talking to him! Riku leaned forward, and instead of yelling over the music he spoke into his ear, "I don't know, but I'd rather be dancing in this noise." Now that was smooth, and the brunet's lips split into a smile that few people could achieve. It was honest and full of mirth. Riku honestly hadn't met someone this real in a long time. Or, the guy seemed real anyway. He didn't know anything about him besides he had blue eyes and a killer smile. Sometimes that was just enough.

Laughter, pure and unbroken angel's song. "I think I can help you with that," Blue Eyes stood from his perch on the stool and offered his hand for Riku to take. It was so unusual to see a guy as young as this one who knew what he wanted. Most of the time the baby-homos were still deciding on an identity and all of that. But, not this guy. Blue Eyes knew exactly what he wanted and frankly, it was a turn-on. Riku followed him obediently to the edge of the dance floor.

It was when the brunet turned around and bumped his hips against Riku's that the silver haired photographer decided that this was quickly turning into the best night of his life. Lust did that to a guy's brain, and he was just a victim to his libido. Which explains why three songs later he had Blue Eye's lips captured with his own.

The kid was putty in his hands, and whimpered when Riku tried to breath. Not that he was complaining. It was then, that moment, that very second that Riku slipped his hands into the top of Blue Eye's unbuttoned shirt, with their lips securely fastened together that Axel took the opportunity to take a picture.

"I have to go-- I have to go-- I have to go--" The brunet's mantra broke the kiss and Riku's concentration, as he shoved the photographer's chest. Riku was not into forcing a partner so he quickly relented and gave him a curious look. "My father is going to kill me. K-I-L-L. Kill." How old was this kid? Riku dumbly followed the brunet's lead as he secured a warm hand around the cameraman's wrist and yanked him towards the bar. If the music had not been so loud, Riku would have swore he heard something about 'thank goodness I'm too old to ground' or something that sounded ridiculous. Like an oxymoron.

He watched with fascination as Blue Eyes leaned over the bar and took a pen from the bartender. That flash of stomach had Riku taking a step forward, but the brunet was not having any of it. He held Riku's palm out and took the cap of the pen off with his mouth. If the music had not remained at a constant volume the brunet could have heard his dance partner whimper as he rolled the pen's cap around with his tongue.

A kiss on his cheek, and bouncing brunet hair later, Riku realized that he would not be continuing that dance. As if he were a dehydrated man looking for water, he shoved the sleeve of his ribbed shirt upwards and sighed in relief. Blue Eyes' name was Sora, and he came with a phone number.

Riku looked over the bartender's shoulder and frowned. It was almost one o' clock in the morning. He had definitely lost the opportunity for a front page picture. Chalking it up to yet another reason why he should be photographing nature, the defeated cameraman halfheartedly looked for Axel on his way out to the car. Most of the starlets stayed an hour or two max in a club, and now Atlantica just had the average people that didn't cause scandal. He packed his camera way in his bag and cranked his car up. Eventually, Cid would get tired of his lack of production, and that would be the day he'd try something else. Until then, he was chasing someone else's dream.

"Riku, glad you decided to show up for work. 'Bout time, you lazy bastard. You'll like the front page. We had it rushed."

Riku blinked blearily and clutched his coffee as if it had the veil of the Virgin Mary in it, and had healing properties. For all he knew it could have had hallucinogens in it, because he certainly wasn't seeing things clearly. The Traverse Times that Cid had dropped on the desk in front of him was certainly looking like one big hoax. There was Riku, and Blue Eyes and they were kissing. Right, he knew that much. He was there when that happened, and he was there when he replayed it in his dreams, but he certainly didn't know--

"I'm looking for this guy."

"Who?"

"The man that is kissing my son in your picture."

"That would be him."

Traitorous backstabbers. Riku turned around to give Axel and Cid and whatever protective father was there a piece of his (slightly groggy) mind. He didn't do anything wrong. He was just kissing the kid. Sure, not a lot of celebutants were gay, but people could deal and the Governor was gay too. Riku planned to open his mouth and welcome them all to the twenty-first-fucking-century but as soon as he realized who was looking for him exactly, well, he forgot to breath.

"What the hell is your problem kid. Trying to give Sora a bad name because his parents are openly homosexual? Are you just trying to mess with him? Because--"

"Whoa," Riku set his Styrofoam coffee cup to the side and held up his hands. That was probably something he should not have done because the intimidating Governor zeroed in on what was written on the palm of Riku's hand.

"Going back for seconds, huh?"

Confused, he held his hand closer so he could see it. There was Sora's number. This guy's kid's fucking phone number on his hand. It was like being caught with his hand in the cookie jar, but far more dangerous because Squall looked like the kind of guy who would have him murdered and dumped for eating his cookies.

"What? N-no."

"You little--"

Riku was pretty sure he should have ducked and covered or stop, dropped, and rolled to get away from the enraged man, but he was fascinated by the man's agility even in a business suit as he jumped over Pence's desk. It was kind of like a train wreck to the photographer, as he couldn't quite look away. Not that he had to.

It didn't take but a second for Squall's fist to connect with his left eye.