Well, this would be my first submission here. I've noticed that there's not nearly enough RenoxRude stories out there, and decided to write one myself. Hope you enjoy it.
Warning: This story will eventually contain a lemon or two. It's about two men together. Don't like that, don't read.
A dim lighting that spilled sluggishly from the rows of amber tinted bulbs that dangled on single cords, bald and sparse from the ceiling provided the lighting for the tucked away bar in which they hung. One bulb seemed to be on its last legs, the filament inside its dusty glass cage guttering like a candle in an easy breeze, casting flickering shadows on the contents and occupants of the room. Small, round oak tables stood on single stalky legs anchored to the plain black tiled floor. Two or three spindly chairs were placed here and there about these wooden islands, an occasional shadowy occupant taking up residence on their seats.
One side of the shadowy room was taken up completely by a long bar that, despite the seemingly uncared for state of the quiet pub, was wiped to a lustrous shine. Behind the immaculately clean bar, rows upon rows of bottles lined the shelves. A myriad of liquors, ranging from the cheap brands housed in bulk-bought brown bottles, to the grossly expensive alcohols kept in their emerald, sapphire, ruby and tanzanite glass prisons.
At this strange out-of-the-way bar, two occupants of the room seemed to stand out in stark comparison to their gloomy surroundings. Seated side-by-side at the bar, balanced on the spindly barstools. Yet they contrasted one another as much as they did the pub.
One was more lean than the other; could almost be described as slender, though not quite. Pale skin that contained the healthy glow of one who was naturally such a light pigment and was not such a colour for lack of sunlight or sickness covered his body. Slim, though well-toned muscles were housed beneath his monochromatic clothing. Plain black pants clung low to his hips, covered by an untucked white shirt, with three of its topmost buttons open to reveal a triangle of smooth skin and defined collarbone. Over the white shirt was tugged on a simple black jacket, left casually open.
The bones of his face were well defined and high, almost a little sharp. High on his cheeks, one on either side beneath his azure eyes, were two little markings. Twin slashes of red. They matched, in colour, his hair perfectly. A spiky mess of scarlet that framed his ivory features, tapering down to the nape of his neck where it was permitted to grow long into a waist length ponytail. Lastly, a pair of goggles was perched on his forehead, messy bangs falling down over it here and there. His feet hooked absently into the bottom rungs of the stool, forearms resting casually against the cool bar top.
Seated on the rickety barstool beside the nonchalant redhead, perched a much larger figure. Broad shoulders were held back in perfect posture, head held high, straight-backed. Well-toned muscles filled out his suit, but not in a manner that would make this still and silent figure seem bulky. Quite to the contrary, he held himself with an easy poise that could almost be described as a quiet, understated grace born of the trained control he held over his body. Both hands were contained within supple black leather gloves, cracked with an indefinite number of miniscule lines over the palms and between the digits from continuous use.
Every aspect of his person seemed to be calculated and controlled to the last minute detail. Each button on his inner white shirt closed, the same goes for the black jacket, and finally a tie done just so about his neck. Contrary to the alabaster skinned man to his left, he was of a somewhat darker hue, olive perhaps. The spluttering glow cast from the dying bulb overhead shone faintly on his bald head, causing the multitude of silver earrings looped through his ears to shine periodically. The right ear housed simply two small silver hoops in its earlobe, though his left ear wasn't so fortunate. Not only were the loops found in his earlobe, but all up the side through the cartilage as well with the six silver earrings. Few people knew his true eye colour, for a pair of delicate designer frames with black tinted lenses covered his eyes almost constantly.
Between the men, sat a crystal clear bottle, the liquid within a vibrant chartreuse. The cork lay beside the bottle, its wet end smelling strongly of the powerful liquid it had previously been in contact with. Each man held a small shot glass between their index, middle finger and thumb. Reno's had been emptied and refilled somewhere in the vicinity of two times, while the tiny glass Rude cradled had hardly been touched.
Bringing the glass upwards to his thin, though curvy lips, Reno gave a simple little flick of his wrist, the emerald liquid tumbling into his mouth, and then down his throat. The instant icy taste was swiftly followed by a sudden fiery burning that created a warm path down into his stomach, tugging a grin onto the slim Turk's lips. "Weren't we supposed to be celebrating, not cooped up in some run down bar?" He chimed out absently, cerulean eyes flicking over towards Rude as one of his thin brows quirked upwards to reiterate his question.
In response, Rude lifted his head a degree or two, turning it to one side so that he could better see his companion, flicking a severe brow upwards, unconsciously mimicking Reno's expression, minus the grin of course. "You were the one to suggest this place, or have you forgotten already?" His deep, smooth voice rolled over the words, turning Reno's expression to one of momentary thoughtfulness.
"Yeah, but that's because this is the only place in Midgar that actually has absinth, yo. I hardly thought it'd be this dead in here." Sighing in annoyance, though with a hint of that former grin still toying about the edge of his lips, he reached again for the bottle. A thin stream of emerald green liquid refilled his glass; however his movements didn't yet show any signs of one becoming a little tipsy, even after three shots of the powerful alcohol between them. "Aw, Rude, come on. At least make this interesting and get sloshed with me."
Rude rolled his eyes, the reaction going unseen through his sunglasses, though Reno seemed to sense it nonetheless and that mischievous grin once more slid onto his lips. There'd be no stopping him now. Figuring it would just be for the best to do as the younger man proposed, rather than get into an argument in public, Rude turned his gaze down to the shot glass still held in his fingers. It just took a little nudging from Reno to settle his decision. That nudge being verbal, in the form of a murmured "I dare ya." From the slim Turk. Rude tipped back his glass, the absinth burning a trail down into his stomach, where it settled with a pleasing warmth.
Rude wasn't particularly fond of getting drunk, as it typically took away from physical awareness, and lowered the senses. Though things always proved interesting when it came to pass with Reno. The last such occasion creating the private joke between them, where either one had to merely mutter the word 'discreet' and Reno would burst out laughing, Rude actually gaining a thin smile.
Reno's chuckled to himself while pouring Rude another glass, briefly entertaining some of the thoughts that had been dancing through his mind for some time now. Perhaps if he got the larger Turk drunk enough… But no, that'd hardly be his style, now would it? Naw, out in the open and not giving a shit what the world thought, a grin on his face was more like Reno. Yet he had been having a bit of a difficult time wondering what to do concerning these new thoughts concerning his partner. They certainly weren't pure and innocent little dreams he woke in a sweat from. Most were filled with lips on lips, tongues intermingling, olive skin pressed to ivory, ragged breaths and shuddering moans.
Blinking his sapphire eyes, having hardly realized that his mind had begun to wander so quickly, Reno shifted a little on his barstool, turning his thoughts swiftly to the most unappealing thing he could imagine. Garbage, digging latrines, Rude's cooking. Definitely Rude's cooking. Glancing up at the taller man slyly through his long, dark lashes, it was rather difficult to tell if the other Turk had noticed the glazed expression that had befallen his features for quite a long moment. Deciding to try and turn his mind to something completely unrelated to the man beside him, Reno absently tossed back another shot of absinth.
Time passed in relative silence for a short time, but it was unlike the young Turk to keep his mouth shut for longer than a few minutes. As such, it wasn't long before Reno was once more chatting amiably away, with Rude tossing in the occasional comment in his black velvet voice. Reno talked more than enough for the both of them, laughing and grinning like and idiot all the while. Five shots later, for the pair of them, both men were quite tipsy, though quite skilled at hiding it. Reno trailed a thin fingertip pensively around the rim of the absinth bottle.
Lifting his hand, a droplet of vibrant emerald liquid clung to his pale skin. Noticing this with an amused lilt to his grin, his inebriated mind sought to amuse itself. Bringing the hand up to his mouth, Reno's slim lips parted slowly, allowing his tongue to slide past. With an almost agonizing slowness, he licked the absinth from his fingertip, running a warm tongue along his lips afterward. All the while his azure eyes had been trained on Rude through the thick barrier of his dark lashes, searching quietly for any reaction from the larger man. To Reno's disappointment, there didn't seem to be any, at least not that he could notice. The rational part of his mind gave a little 'I told you so', which he pointedly ignored.
Resisting the urge to sigh in agitation, Reno simply turned on his barstool and leaned towards the olive skinned man, a brow quirking upwards. "Those glasses are fuckin' annoying, you know. What colour are your eyes anyway?" When under the influence of alcohol, people typically lose many of their inhibitions, as well as their sense of personal space. Reno didn't really have much of the latter in the first place, and as such he was leaning very close to his partner. One of his arms rested casually on the smooth bar top, his face but inches from Rude's.
Rude's expression was somewhat difficult to read, his muscles somewhat tensed as he slowly turned to face the red head more fully. Whatever thoughts had been scrabbling through his mind were hidden from Reno, and yet Rude made no move to stop the younger man as he reached up, slender fingers slowly grasping the delicate frames and sliding them off to be placed absently on the bar top. Oddly enough, the darker skinned man's muscles seemed to relax faintly when Reno's fingers grazed his temples.
So close to the bald mans impassive visage, Reno's azure scanned with keen interest along the strip of skin that he had so rarely seen, then began to search Rude's mahogany eyes. They both sat quite still and silent for a long series of moments until Reno's lips split into one of his characteristic I'm-a-sexy-bastard-and-you-love-it type grins. "The glasses were an improvement."
Even the one to ruin a potential moment, Reno thought to himself as he watched Rude give an annoyed grunt and roll his smooth chocolate eyes, beginning to turn his head away. The movement was halted quite suddenly by the touch of a warm palm making contact with his cheek. Gentle pressure was applied, turning Rude's head again until those surprised chestnut orbs stared into a set of sapphire eyes. "I was just kidding, yo." Those words came more softly than expected past Reno's thin lips, which Rude noticed were within inches of his own.
"You're drunk." The older man noted dryly, remaining still and stoic in the face of Reno's cerulean eyes, which had turned fiery, filled with what Rude would have taken as lust, were it anyone but his partner.
In response, the red headed Turk blinked his azure eyes, the sinful emotion within vanishing to be replaced with his usual impish expression. "Damn, Rude, you're clever." Chuckling as he pushed himself to his feet, not even the faintest trace of a stagger to hint at the copious amount of alcohol he had consumed that evening. "This place is about as much fun as eating your cooking. Let's go somewhere else?"
Flicking a brow upwards in casual question, he silently asked Rude's opinion of a change of location. He answer he received was completely unexpected, and threw the young man a little off centre. "Your place then?" This returned question heaved up a million thoughts in Reno's mind, all imploring to be heeded first. Part of him was wondering if he should be reading into this, and another part proclaiming the opposite. There was also the matter of if he should agree.
If Rude returned to his house, there was the chance that he'd go and let his hormones get the better of him, probably making a muddle of everything. Lastly, there was the part of his mind that was steadily scheming different ways to get Rude out of his clothes and into his bed. But then again, that part of his mind was always doing that. "Uh, sure." Was his best reply, making his ways towards the door.
Grasping the frigidly cold handle, Reno tugged open the door, velvety starlight pouring into the dingy bar. The flaming haired Turk's skin turned a softly glowing alabaster in such natural light. Stepping out into the chilly night air, a welcome change from the stale scent of beer and smoke that clogged the bar, Reno glanced momentarily over his shoulder.
Rude followed along behind, the two wandering off down the street, Reno resuming his habit of talking enough for the both of them, with Rude occasionally tossing in a few comments.