In the Car

Disclaimer: Don't own it, yadda. Written on a prompt from Mako Headrush: Footprints on the windshield. How did they get there?

Gonna get back to basics
Guess I'll start it up again
I'm falling from the ceiling
You're falling from the sky now and then
Maybe you were shot down in pieces
Maybe I slipped in between
But we were gonna be the wildest people they ever hoped to see
Just you and me-Counting Crows, Recovering the Satellites

"So, you need a ride home after this?" Vincent twirled a set of car keys on a finger of his gauntlet. "Reeve gave me the SUV for the week. It was like getting the car from dad or something."

"Sexy." Rude grinned briefly. "No, riding with Reno today. Cloud has Fenrir but he won't be back till later." It wasn't as if it were far, but a busy day of meetings between the WRO and ShinRa made driving more sensible between their various homes and offices.

"That Shitbox actually runs? And you found a place to sit in the middle of all the burger wrappers?"

"Barely. I may have sat in guacamole. I pray it was guacamole. You look nice by the way."

And he did, dressed sharply in a dark gray suit and black silk shirt for official appearances. But he grimaced. "You know I hate suits."

"I don't." It was rapidly becoming a leer.

"Are we going to have a repeat of the Kalm Inn Incident, Rude?"

"Can we schedule it between all these fucking meetings?"

"….Maybe." Rude looked good too, but then he always did, and close to him, both of them leaning into the SUV, he could smell his shaving lotion. "I'll have to…damn." His cell phone trilled. "Fine. The hotel? Yes." He sighed. "Reeve wants me to take Barret, Cid, and Yuffie back to the hotel for their meeting before I scatter back to your building for my meeting." His tone made it clear that he'd rather be chasing Sephiroth, or locked in a coffin, or getting dental work, or something.

"Here comes Reno." The rumble of the old beater car was unmistakable and neither looked up to confirm the noise.

"Watch the guacamole."

Rude began the task of folding his large body to fit into the passenger seat of the old sportscar. "Partner? Are those footprints on your windshield?"

"Um, yeah. Didn't notice them this morning?" Reno looked over his shoulder to check for traffic.

"How did they get there? Have you been standing on your car?"

"Uh…" Vincent leaned over and ran his finger down the outside of the windshield. "They're on the inside, Rude."

"How the hell did you get footprints on the inside of the windshield? What the hell were you..." It took a few minutes, between his partner's unashamed grin and Vincent's shaking head, before the dots connected and he realized just what position someone would have to be in for their feet to be just right there.

"Oh." Then after a few moments. "Oh." Before Rude could renegotiate his ride home, Reno pulled away from the curb and the last thing Vincent heard from the old car was Reno's cackle in the fall afternoon air.

"It's not just that they had sex in the car. I'm not that much of a prude."

Vincent was silent. Rude did have to be talked into some of their more adventurous encounters, but then, it didn't take much. A few touches, a kiss, a lick. Ears were a particularly effective negotiation tactic. Vincent had his ways of persuasion, after all. He always had, his whole life. It was just that, well…with Rude, he had a few more methods at his disposal. A few more very, very mutually enjoyable methods.

Rude went on. "First of all, I can't imagine being naked in that car. It's just…unhygienic. Second…it's a pretty small car. Third, I'm really, really hoping that was guacamole, earlier. I really didn't look at it."

By now Vincent was laughing too hard to continue whatever he had been doing on the computer, so he shut it down. He didn't often have a lot of work to do for Reeve; this week was the exception, but he was getting punchy. "Well, as for the size of the car…we mako folks are pretty flexible."

"I have noticed. And Reno swears the guac was from the new taco stand over on Loveless."

"I could go for some tacos." He rested his chin on his arm, thinking how good it felt to laugh and how long he went without it.

Things were different, now.

"You hungry?"

"Supper was four hours ago, Rude."

"The horrors." Rude came over and began to rub the tension from the muscles in his neck.

"I should be working."

"Everybody needs a break. Come on."

The tacos were hot, and crispy, topped with fresh guacamole this time as well as lime and salsa, and washed down by the coldest beer Vincent had ever tasted. They sat at a small metal table, the stand all but deserted at the late hour. Rude went up and ordered another round of beer before they closed, and brought it back.

"I can't believe shit hits the fan, this time next week. I feel so unprepared."

"Don't worry about it, you have people working for and with you. The security for this expo is a lot of work but you aren't doing it alone."

"Yeah. Keep telling me that. I keep forgetting." He took another hot fried crunchy bite of his taco. "Thank you for dragging me out. I needed it"

Rude reached forward and brushed his long dark hair back. "I worry. Don't want you getting sick." He leaned back, his finger picking at the label on the beer bottle, the sentence filled with words unsaid.

There were a thousand things he could say back, none of which would really reassure Rude, he knew. And were their roles reversed, he couldn't say he would be much better, so he nodded.

It's not your fault.

You can't protect me.

You love me more than anyone ever has and I feel it every moment of my life even if I am still a moody bastard.

There were times when their non-verbal relationship really didn't cut it, so he only said "It's almost over. Another week, and I'm tired, but fine. And eating. See?" He finished off the last bite of taco and drank down his beer.

"Ready to head back?"

"Yeah. Need our rest, right?"

But back in the car, the hesitant mood from the table lingered. Vincent was good with words when they were sarcastic or professional or morose, but this was different. His hand hovered over the ignition and dropped and he turned to Rude, awkward not sure what to say. He put down the console and leaned into his strong, muscular shoulder.

It was like a mirror image of the first night they had kissed, and Rude raised up his chin to softly take his lips. "You okay?"

He nodded. "Let's just sit here a few minutes?"

"Sure."

The taco stand was long closed now, the street deserted. Once again they were the only two people in the world. Vincent reached up with his mouth, seeking now with more heat, parting Rude's lips with an insistent tongue. His lover's only response was a possessive growl as he nearly fell upon him, tangling a large strong hand in his long hair to trap him and pull him closer.

He did not argue. After a few minutes of hungry, open mouthed biting kisses, Vincent drew up his leg to kneel and straddled Rude in the passenger seat, drawing nibbling licks and kisses over his face and neck and depositing the ever-present sunglasses into the door pocket. The tiny amount of light coming in through the humidity-fogged tinted windows was barely enough to see. They mapped each other by touch, and taste.

Vincent reached down and reclined the seat, stretching himself full across Rude's larger form. Here, in a borrowed car, fully clothed, it was both impossibly ridiculous and impossibly hot. He felt Rude's hardness against his own and ground down instinctively into it, sighing at the small temporary relief he found there.

Rude wiggled oddly under him and he raised his head in question. "Shoes," his lover explained in brief. "Lean up a sec." He did and Rude's pants soon followed but not before a small tube was pressed into his palm for temporary safekeeping.

"Turk," he muttered in mild insult.

"Thought you might wanna fool around in dad's car." Rude knew him. Oh, he knew him, all right. He grinned like an idiot as he settled back between Rude's thighs and the man unzipped his jeans, drew out his aching cock and began to stroke it, using his other hand to push his jeans down past his hips. He groaned and thrust up into the warm and gentle grip.

"Impatient?"

"I didn't think car sex was known for its foreplay. And yes. I am."

Vincent lay back down on top, both of them groaning now at the heated contact and kissed Rude again. He felt the legs on either side of him shift and glanced over his shoulder to see that Rude had propped his feet up on the dashboard. "No footprints." He grinned.

"And a bigger car." Rude poured lube into his hand and massaged it over his lover's arousal. Cramped quarters made preparation awkward, and so Vincent entered Rude slowly, giving his lover a chance to adjust to being breached before he moved in further. When he found himself seated fully within Rude's gripping heat he raised his head and looked down. "Okay?"

Rude's nodded and rolled his hips, his face taut with pleasure. Vincent pulled nearly out and thrust back in slowly, groaning with the sensation. Rude began to meet his thrusts in rhythm, the pressure of it perfect. He was just wondering how in the hell he was going to last long enough to not embarrass himself when Rude's hips snapped up and his head dug back into the headrest. "Oh gods, babe, right there. Right there, oh shit." And quiet, stoic Rude screamed loudly enough that Vincent was briefly worried about alerting the police, before he felt Rude spurt hot over both their stomachs and then Vincent's own vision went white with pleasure. And then he forgot to worry about anything at all except strong warm hands on his hips, steadying him as they always did, and he bowed his head against Rude's throat, and sighed.

"I hate to ask an indelicate question," the soft, deep voice under his forehead rumbled.

"I'll double check the car later." He'd make sure there was no evidence—or guacamole—in the brighter light of morning. It was Reeve's after all. They cleaned themselves up with the last of the napkins and dressed in the cramped confines of the SUV. The whole situation hit him at once and he began to laugh again.

"What?"

"We just had sex in my boss's car."

"Your boss is Reeve. The same man who taught you how to rent an apartment. The same man you almost died on, at least once." Vincent started the car and pulled onto the street

"You should write an etiquette book."

"And sell it to Reno." Vincent pulled into the condo parking garage and Rude touched his face gently. "I'll never stop trying to protect you, you know."

"I know." He struggled for what to say next, and finally, for the first time since his life had taken a turn into horror and mayhem so many years ago, told the simple truth. "Thank you."

They locked the car doors, Rude remembering at the last minute to crack the windows and Vincent rolling his eyes, and made their way toward the elevator, and home.

A/N: So, anyone interested in how the footprints got in Reno's car? Hmmm?