I wasn't in the mood for updating HH... so I decided to get this idea off my mind.

Summary: It was always like that: cut and dry, black and white. There was never time to notice the shades of grey.

Pairings: Rude x Reno, implied Rufus x Reno (all eventually)

Length: This was meant to be a one shot, but I decided to just let it happen the way it's turning out.

Disclaimer: Don't own anything. Not making any profit, and no copyright infringement is intended.

The redhead closed his eyes as he took of a drag of his cigarette, exhaling a meandrous plume of smoke that coiled abstractedly in front his eyes momentarily before drifting upwards to coalesce with the ubiquitous blue cloud above them. His partner peered at him through dark sunglasses, tapping the butt of his own cigarette lightly to shake off the ashes. They fell, uniform, and then shattered into the grimy ash tray, no longer identifiable peppered over the warped butts and hills of ashes.

His eyelids lifted lazily, and he conjured a small smirk for the shaven-headed man across from him. "Yo, Rude, something wrong?"

Rude took a drag, more discreetly than his parter had, and exhaled through the side of his mouth, the same way he spoke as he said, "You tell me, Reno."

"Well, you're staring at me, man," Reno replied, leaning back in his chair and gazing around the strip club languidly.

"..."

Getting no reply, the redhead looked sharply at Rude, mouth turned down just enough to make his expression distasteful. He eyed his partner's posture, tilting his head back slightly. He is angsting over something. He was sitting up straight, elbows on the wobbling table, left hand clenched into a fist, right hand blanketing it and dangling a half-smoked cigarette between the index and middle finger. He was leaning his chin against the bulk of his hands, his eyebrows knit together and mouth set. Years of the sunglasses - always, always the sunglasses - had gifted him with a sort of sixth sense as to when the taller man was looking at him, as he was now.

Running his tongue over his teeth, Reno lolled his head back on his neck and eyed the stage with disinterest. "Yo, why do we come here?" he asked, extending an arm to crush his cigarette in the ash tray as the lights began to flash and the song changed to something heavy on bass.

"We always have."

Ignoring the terse manner of the answer, Reno rolled his eyes. "Yeeeah, but why?"

Rude shifted. "We..." He cleared his throat. "We met here." Another drag.

"Correction, oh succinct one: we met in the alley behind here, where you saved my prepubescent ass from Aizawa and his gang," Reno drawled. "I don't know what the fuck you were doing with a gun at the age of thirteen, but damn am I grateful for your delinquency." He flashed his partner a grin.

"Hn," Rude intoned, Reno straining to hear him over the palpitating bass of the music.

"Ever loquacious," the redhead chirped cheerfully. "Nine years, and I bet you two thousand gil you pro'ly haven't said more'n a thousand words to me."

"You exaggerate."

"A thousand and two, then."

There was a brief respite of silence between songs, and in this, Rude ordered another Screwdriver from the thong clad waitress and Reno swung his feet on the table and watched the new array of dancers file out, eyes lingering on the men. "DJ's not so bad tonight, though," he murmured, recognizing the next song, marked by what sounded like a woman moaning.

I'm just another little faggot with a problem

Fuckin' around over someone else's hard-on

Rude's cell phone, which rested on the table near the pack of cigarettes they shared, lit up abruptly before being snatched up by the taciturn man. "Yes." He paused, listening to whoever was on the other line. "Oh. Rod."

I lick clit and I like it

"The Honey Bee Inn." A pause. "Yeah. You gonna meet us?" Another pause.

Now if I wasn't here, I'd be out gettin laid

Please please please sing the whole damn song

Reno eyed him and lit up another cigarette, feet bouncing along with the music. "What are our orders?" Rude inquired as Reno groaned. "Alright." He hung up and looked at Reno. "Mission."

The redhead rolled his eyes. "Obviously." He scratched the tattoo near his temple, a gold chain on his wrist glinting in the pulsing lights. "Where to, dude?"

"The Sector 5 plate."

Who like that song 5-year-old Pantyshot?

Yeah, yeah, dat could be a real big record

'Cause it's got the bump with the molestation

Reno whistled, looking faintly taken aback. "Yo, the plate? Some cockbite executive sell info on Shin Ra to another corporation?"

Rude shook his head.

"Did anybody sell info?"

Another shake of the head.

The waitress came back with Rude's drink. Reno grabbed it and unceremoniously stole a sip.

And I'll kiss my ass and put a motherfucking smile on my face

And I get real stupid and you and you and you can't stop me

"Somebody threatens the company's existance," he mused thoughtfully.

"No."

"Beating info outta somebody?"

"No."

"Stealing materials?"

"No."

"Stealing equipment?"

"No."

"Then what the fuck, man! Fuck, I dunno. Is Rufus fucking hungry or something?" he howled, slamming the drink down and showering the table in spiked orange juice. By some vindictive chance's whim, a drop quenched the embers of the taciturn man's cigarette. Reno saw this and cleared his throat, grinning cheesily. "Heh, sorry, man."

Sighing, Rude, crushed the wasted butt into the ash tray and folded his hands in front of his face. "It's a side job."

Realization flooded Reno's features. "Well, why the fuck didn't you just say so?"

Rude hummed softly. "I..." he paused. "... enjoyed watching you make a fool of yourself."

"That's rude, Rude," Reno deadpanned, letting his feet fall. He put on a travesty of a hurt expression. "You're so cruel, babe."

Rude stood up abruptly and reached into his jacket, withdrawing his wallet. Reno watched stolidly, counting the notes as Rude laid them on the table neatly on the table. "Let's go," he said impassively to Reno, who stood and stretched indolently, smirking at the new crease between Rude's eyes.

They were bowed out of the dingy club by a scantily clad Worker Bee as the song closed. She looked young, no older than seventeen, and an intense blush stained her cheeks, though she kept a look of resolve on her cherubic face. However, the determination was disturbingly marred by the requirement to at all times 'look appealing' for the clientele.

Reno, who had a penchant for mortifying new employees at the establishment, winked at her and leaned in as they passed. "Save some of those tits for me," he murmured to her silkily.

I'll show you how official midgets jack me off

I'll show you how official midgets jack me ah, ah, ah!

"Playboy," Rude remarkd as they stepped into the hazy, smog smeared light of Wall Market.

"Prude," Reno retorted, patting his partner's ass briskly before striding ahead quickly before he could flatten him into the grunge below them.

Also, I don't own the song "I Hate Jimmy Page" by Mindless Self Indulgence. MSI owns it. Nor do I actually hate Jimmy Page.

And that's the first chapter... hmm. My apologies for any spelling or grammar errors. I read it over twice to make sure, but ah, well. Everyone makes mistakes, yo. Review, please. TBC.