Having watched Coupling too many times, I decided to do this one-shot. It's a bit stream of consciousness and not like my other things, but I think I like it anyway. Let me know what you think!
These characters do not belong to me and I make no money off of this story!
"I'll be right back," Rude said, moving to head to the bathroom and relieve his bladder of the night's mission—getting as drunk as possible so he would be able to sleep, be able to breathe…
"Good for you, pal, I'll post a bulletin," the man next to him at the bar said, shaking his head.
For a moment he was stunned. For so many years of his life, each and every time he made a move to leave a room, leave the apartment, go anywhere, it had been to the tune of Reno's unique, slurring, and stuffed-up voice asking, "Where're you going?"
It was a shock to him that no one had asked.
Because Reno wasn't around anymore, and he hadn't been for months now. No, he'd gone out to get Wutain food and he'd been killed by a drunk driver who'd jumped the curb.
And Rude was alone…
It was dark. It was late. And Rude was awake.
He looked over at Reno, asleep next to him. He was soft and vulnerable when he was asleep, his arms crooked above his head, splayed out on his back. He slept like he lived—abandoned and unreserved, almost childlike in his absolute faith that he was safe. His chest rose and fell with his soft, almost inaudible breathing.
He was out like a light.
"Reno," Rude said, just to test it.
That body didn't twitch, didn't shift, just kept snoozing as he always did after good sex.
Cautiously, Rude moved to the edge of the bed and eased his legs over. He paused there and glanced back at his sleeping partner.
Still out like a light.
"Reno," he said again, and got nothing.
Just as cautiously, he started to stand.
"Where're you going?" Reno asked, waking with a soft grunt.
Amazed, Rude stood and looked down at him. Reno rubbed one blue eye with his softly curled fist, looking confused and a little lost.
He'd tested this theory out numerous times and had discovered that no matter how tired Reno was, how deeply asleep, how drunk or how distant, the moment Rude moved he was suddenly alert and asking, "Where're you going?" He didn't do it to be annoying, he just liked to know things. All kinds of things. All of the time.
"I'll be right back," Rude said.
"Hurry up, yo, I'm already cold," Reno complained, and rolled onto his side to curl into a little ball.
They hadn't meant to become lovers, it had just kinda happened. For both of them, work was life—it had just seemed to make sense to live together.
The first time he'd met Reno he'd thought he was stoned with a head cold because of the way he talked—slow and slightly slurred, like his nose was stuffy. Rude had offered him a cough-drop and Reno had laughed. Months later he'd realized that it was just Reno. Just Reno, like the way he wore his suit or those goggles on his head. When he woke up the first time to find the man sprawled on his couch, it was just Reno. Without Rude even being aware of it, Reno just kinda moved in. One day there was a backpack with extra clothes, and a few weeks later Rude bought a new dresser with more drawers because Reno was complaining he didn't have any room in their place. Their place.
It had a nice ring to it.
There were moments of friction. Rude came home from the grocery store to find that Reno had made a mess of the kitchen. Having gotten frustrated with cleaning it, the man had decided that watching a television program was the best way to regain his desire to fix things and lay happily on the couch while Rude glowered in anger.
"I'll clean it up," Reno told him, and gave him a cheeky grin. "I promise!"
Reno always made promises.
They were outside on the balcony and Reno was smoking. It was February and freezing, which was why Rude was outside. Reno had whined at him, begged, and pleaded—he was too thin, his coat wasn't warm enough, only baldy would do. So Rude had gone outside with him even though he wasn't a smoker. He'd gone outside to stand by the railing with Reno snuggled half inside his coat, his chapped hand trembling when it lifted his cigarette.
"You need to quit smoking," Rude told him, keeping him as warm as possible.
Reno twisted to grin up at him and said, "I will, yo. I promise!"
He always made promises.
It was nice to lay on the couch and watch movies, and Rude was glad of the company. He'd learned to sit in one corner of the couch or the other, or else Reno wouldn't join him. Reno was like a cat where snuggling was concerned—only on his terms. If Rude sat in one corner of the couch then it was almost a guarantee that Reno would stretch out over the rest of it, either his feet or his head in Rude's lap.
"You should rub my feet," Reno informed him, a grin on his face. He was fussy about his feet. He hated anyone touching them, which was also cat-like. He took obsessive care of them even though he'd always say that feet were gross.
"You hate to have your feet touched," Rude reminded, intent on the program, ignoring those slender appendages paddling playfully in his lap.
"You do it right, like those little Wutain women at the nail place," Reno slurred, and laughed. He was chewing gum in lieu of having a cigarette.
Rude slipped those feet off of his lap and stood.
"Where're you going?" Reno asked, watching him.
"I'll be right back," Rude said, and went to get the lotion Reno liked, returned to rub Reno's long feet and watch his toes spread. Just like a cat.
The first time they'd had sex it surprised them both. It had been awkward and odd, full of fumbling hands and outright laughter that had culminated in sweaty skin and unexpected pleasure. They hadn't kissed because Reno said that kissing was for girls, but the weirdness of it wore off into a comfortable closeness. They didn't have sex a lot, but when they did both of them wondered why they didn't do it more often…until Monday rolled around and they came back from work barely able to shower and fall into bed, exhausted. But it was always good, and they always slept together—Rude on his quarter of the bed, Reno starting out sprawled on the rest of it only to end up on Rude's chest by morning, wrapped around him like a vine. He was Rude's best friend, his partner in all ways imaginable…and the biggest bed hog he'd ever shared space with.
They'd gone shopping after work one day, when things had been slow and they weren't tired. Reno had seen a pair of goggles that he decided he couldn't live without.
"I gotta have those babies! They're so beautiful!" he'd said, and he still sounded stuffy, still sounded stoned. That was just Reno. His lazy, silly grin—just Reno, but it was hard to resist all the same. "C'mon, let's get them."
"I don't have any cash," Rude told him. "You have to start remembering to go to the ATM before we go shopping."
"I will," Reno said, still grinning. "I promise."
Reno always made promises.
Rude looked at him, a man a little rough around the edges, flawed in fundamental ways. But he never judged Rude, never asked for better, and Rude never thought that he'd find someone who understood him like Reno did.
He headed out of the store.
"Where're you going?" Reno called.
"I'll be right back."
He went to the ATM at the corner and got out a few hundred gil. He bought Reno those goggles he wanted. It was enough to see how happy he was, putting them on and tossing his old ones away, so proud of his newest acquisition. He didn't say thank you, but he didn't have to—their relationship simply wasn't designed to handle obligation.
"You look awful, Rude," Elena had said. It was the Monday after the accident that killed Reno and Rude was still furious. Turks died in the line of duty, they went down in flames and glory and went on to a special place in heaven reserved for the stupidly brave and courageous. They didn't get run down on the sidewalk by a drunk who'd jumped the curb in his beater. They just didn't.
"I'm sorry, man!" the man had cried. He had been sorry—by the time Rude got done with him, he'd never drive drunk again in his life. Rude had torn him from the car through the shattered window—seatbelt and all—and had beat on him until WRO soldiers had broken it up.
"You can't go on like this," Elena told him.
Rude agreed. Without Reno, he couldn't go on at all. He'd been the reason that Reno had gone out that night to get them Wutain take-out. It had been his irritation that had led to the best friend of his life being reduced to a red smear on the sidewalk, dying alone in the dark thanks to one stupid fucking driver. Rude had heard the screech of tires, had rushed outside to see if he could help…and he'd found Reno crushed beneath the wheels of a car, blood everywhere and mingling with the spilled contents of take-out food, his blue eyes sightless. Rude had called the emergency number on his cell and dropped the phone, letting them trace it. Reno had groped aimlessly with one hand, clinging tight when Rude took it.
"I'm here," Rude had said.
Reno just lay there, bereft of sight and dying. When Rude snatched up his phone to see if they were coming, his voice came out as a soft drone, "Where…you…going?"
"Nowhere," Rude answered. "I'm right here."
He'd been dead before an ambulance could be dispatched.
They took what was left of the driver instead.
When he'd come home to find that Reno hadn't done the grocery shopping he'd been upset and irritated. It was irrational to be angry about it but he'd been looking forward to making dinner and he was already hungry.
"I was going to go tonight," Reno said. "I'm sorry, yo, I just forgot to go earlier."
Rude hadn't said anything but he hadn't needed to—it was pretty clear when he was upset about something.
Reno apologized again and Rude sighed. He never could stay mad. Sensing his advantage, Reno had managed to win a smile and hugged Rude. Hugged him. They'd stood together in the kitchen for a moment and it wasn't awkward or anything, it was just…nice.
Reno broke the embrace and headed for the front door.
"Where're you going?" Rude asked.
"I'll be right back," Reno said, grinning mischievously. "I promise."
Reno always made promises.
This was the only one he didn't keep.