Author's Notes: This one is far nicer than the last one. I promise. Made as a gift for another Kiriban thing on Y!gallery. I feel so loved there. And I think I corner the market on Reeve/Rude now.

Man of Math

In all honesty, Reeve was a man for math. Sure, he dreamed and such and liked poetry, but he was still a man of math. Sometimes it was just easier to throw oneself into numbers and equations than to try to understand humanity. He thought himself a real person, you know, but when you were around the other executives, you had to question that. Math could explain almost everything. From why a flower had a certain number of petals in a specific order, why Midgar could remain standing, even why the rain fell like it did.

But sometimes… sometimes Reeve wished he was a man of words. Some things just seemed to illogical, too… abstract for math. Even theoretical maths didn't do much to explain some stuff. Like love. That was one thing math couldn't account for. Or emotions. Or how something as small as a flower left by a secret admirer would cause a person to react. Yeah, love was the worst of these things he couldn't explain by math. That and the things love drove people to do.

This was one of those moments. Those times when he wished he had all the flowery language to describe just what was going through his head. He could tell you about the math and science behind thought and neurons and chemicals being released and all that stuff. He could tell you exactly how long they had been like this. And he could tell you that those lips pressed against his own, that tongue questing past his parted lips, were just as hot as his own lips and tongue. But got how much hotter they felt. And god how good they felt.

Sometimes, sometimes Reeve wished he was a man of action. There were just those things that needed to be spontaneous, or those things that thinking didn't help with. Things like love. Math couldn't tell you how to react to a strong body pressed against your own. A man of action would pull the other person closer, or push them completely away instead of being stuck in a limbo of confusion.

This was one of those moments. One of those times when he wished he could act, or at least react to what was going on. Either convince that feathery touch to become firm, or swat it away. How he wished he could either kiss the other person back or at least give in totally. Math couldn't make those kinds of decisions. Math couldn't explain why he wanted to gasp in pleasure and found himself unable to.

Sometimes he wished he was a man of the world. If he was, if he was that down to earth and versed in the pleasures of the flesh, this might not be awkward. Math didn't tell you just where to put your hands to stop the other from pulling away. Math didn't tell you how to touch them to let them know that you wanted the same thing. No, a man of the world would know all the right touches, all the right words, all the right things to make this feel better. And he wouldn't be scared of doing it.

And this was that moment. A moment he wanted to know what to do and how to do it right. A moment that he was only realizing, now that he was pushing math aside for one moment, that he had been waiting for. A moment you could lose yourself in with or without math, and only you could pull yourself out.

But the thing was, Reeve wasn't any of those. He was just a lowly man of math. He didn't have the words to explain it, or the ability to act on it, or even the knowledge of what he should do to make this better. Still. There was one thing Reeve did have, beyond his role as a man of math…

He was a man. A man in love. Maybe it took this kiss to prove it. Maybe it took the way the stronger male was holding him so close to make it alright. Or maybe, just maybe, it was the way that no one else seemed to care that he was a man being kissed by another man. Any way you looked at it, he was a man in love, and damned if kissing that one person he loved didn't feel so right.

Finally the kiss was broken, and Reeve was panting. Suddenly all the math was gone and he was left with his heart throbbing and he couldn't explain it. He was left with the urge to start the kiss back up. He was left with the need to touch the man and look into eyes hidden so often behind reflective lenses. Instead all he did was lean against the bald Turk, resting his head on the strong torso, and sighed contentedly. So what if he was a man of math? Something told him that soon enough he'd learn to be a man of so much more.