Tseng sat in his apartment swirling a glass of bourbon in his hand as he stared at his feet groggily. His jacket had been tossed to the side and his shirt was only half buttoned, revealing his well-sculpted chest and all of the scars traced across it by various forms of weaponry. Weapons of various shape, size, and intent littered the area surrounding him and he reveled in the rarely felt comfort and vulnerability that being drunk and stripped of all protection gave him. His mind puttered along at a sluggish rate as he succumbed to the mind numbing effects of the alcohol, humming softly as he refilled his glass from the half empty decanter on the coffee table beside him. For the first time in a week he was relaxed, and it didn't suit him at all.

He ached to do something, anything that would get rid of the ache in his chest. The alcohol numbed the pain that gnawed at his soul, but it didn't remove it. He had spent the past week drinking until he was tired enough to sleep, but was never able to rid himself of the pain and tonight was the first night where he had actually been able to forget whatever caused it long enough to relax. His weakness grated on his nerves and he tried to make his muddled mind focus on what was causing the pain, but the bourbon he steadily sipped wouldn't permit him to think lucidly. That was a blessing and a curse for Tseng, and why he chose bourbon as his drinking partner for the night. He was able to let his tired and tense body relax with his thoughts, but then he couldn't comprehend what was going on around him.

Tseng was busily refilling his glass from the decanter he was considering drinking from so he wouldn't slop the precious liquid all over his hands when a knock sounded on the door. He took a small sip of his newly poured bourbon before setting the glass down clumsily, struggling to his feet and wobbling unsteadily towards the door. He contemplated grabbing a weapon from the floor, but he knew he wasn't sober enough to utilize any of them.

Tseng walked calmly to the door, confused as to why he was doing so now that the knocking had stopped. He let the chain on his door go taut and peered through the crack. He stared at the bleary-faced man whose fist had assailed his door and it took his foggy eyes a few moments to piece together and recognize the features of the man before him, but soon the puzzle fit together and triggered a verbal response. "Rude?"

Rude took in Tseng's bloodshot eyes through his own and chuckled softly, "You're wasted too, Tseng?"

Tseng frowned and tried to open the door wider to let Rude inside, confused by the door's reluctance to open all the way. He tugged on it and his frown deepened as Rude plucked the chain like a guitar string. Tseng shut the door to undo the chain, but once the door was closed and the chain removed he had trouble remembering why he had unlocked his door at all. He was about to lock it again when knocking sounded on his door. He opened it, blinking softly as he tried to piece together and recognize the features of the man before him. Soon the puzzle pieces fit together and triggered a verbal response. "Rude?"

Rude swayed slightly and staggered inside, chuckling softly. "You're soooo wasted, Tseng."

"Not wasted, just drunk." Tseng rolled his eyes and shut the door, struggling to re-chain it as the rotation of his eyes made the entire room spin. He steadied himself against the door as his confused body tried to compensate for the spinning by wobbling and shook his head to try and diffuse the sensation. Shaking his head only served to make the sensation worse, however, and he settled on closing his eyes until the vertigo passed.

Tseng was reminded of his guest when Rude unsteadily settled himself onto his couch with a squeak of protest from springs that were unused to bearing weight. Tseng frowned, trying to remember why he never used his couch, but Rude's next question stopped his musing. "Can I have soma this stuff, Tseng?" Tseng turned as Rude swirled the amber contents of his decanter.

Tseng nodded and steered his shuffling, swaying body towards his chair and the remaining contents of his glass. He plopped into his cushy armchair and sipped the bourbon happily, watching as Rude grabbed a spare glass from the tray his decanter rested on and shakily poured the bourbon into it.

Rude hummed as he took his first sip and leaned back against the couch. There were more squeaking protests from the couch as Rude's weight shifted. "So why're you drinkin', boss?"

Tseng blinked and tried to remember why he had started drinking. A few fuzzily painful memories tried to surface, making the hurt in his chest grow, and he sipped the bourbon again to push them away. Unfortunately, pushing them away left him without a definite answer, but he didn't want to remember why he had started drinking in the first place. "Dunno." His tongue felt heavy and he was somewhat surprised he was able to move it enough to form words. "Why're you drinkin'?"

Rude hummed and sipped the bourbon, "Miss Reno."

Tseng felt a stab of pain from the wound in his chest and gulped the sour bourbon to chase it away. He was still able to remember the conversation at hand though, and that kept his chest hurting. Maybe he could talk it away? If he could get his tongue to move right he might be able to, and then he wouldn't have to keep drinking until he blacked out. Hungover Tseng would be happy if he didn't drink as much tonight as he had last night, this morning hungover Tseng had been very cranky with drunk Tseng. He waited for his thoughts to arrange before spreading them across his soggy, wasted tongue like wet butter. "Then why dontcha go s-see him?" He hiccupped embarrassingly as he talked and a cloud of bourbon flavored breath tickled his nose, but Rude didn't seem to notice or mind.

"He's stuck at Rufususeses." Rude struggled to successfully shove Rufus' name into the air, but his tongue skipped around the proper pronunciation like a stone chucked across tepid water.

"Lucky him." Tseng felt another pang in his chest and frowned, forcing it away with more bourbon. He drained his glass and then the decanter, humming softly at the warmth that spread in his stomach from the alcohol. He felt strangely bitter despite the warmth, and he couldn't pin a reason down.

Rude frowned morosely, "Unlucky me." The couch springs whined loudly as Rude leaned forward and sipped at his glass.

Tseng felt his thoughts try to arrange a response that would continue the conversation in the same thread, but he ignored them as the long syllables made his head hurt. Instead, he changed topics. "Why're you h-here?" Another hiccup, another cloud of bourbon breath.

Rude gave a slurred giggle and drained his glass. "Bartender wouln't gimme my lock-turny things an Lena didn't wanna deal with my drunk. Wanid ta know if I could crash here for tanight."

Tseng blinked at Rude's foggy face and felt the distinct displeasure of being one-upped. Rude was so drunk he couldn't even remember what the lock-turny things were called, yet Tseng was still sober enough to remember. At least he thought he was. He tried to call up the word from his unwired brain, but the operator wasn't at his post. Oh well, he didn't need to know what the lock-turny things were called anyways. It wasn't relevant. "You can stay. I think I gotta spare blanket and stuff somewhere…" He closed his eyes and tried to concentrate. What were the lock-turny things again?

Rude smiled and moved to re-fill his glass, only to find the decanter empty. He turned to Tseng with a disappointed pout. "Got more?"

Tseng looked around, wondering where he had put his extra bottle of bourbon. He could vaguely remember setting it in the kitchen, but as he stood up to retrieve it his shaky legs let him know that he wouldn't be able to walk the long distance to the kitchen and back without hurting himself. He knew, even in his hazy, drunken state, that when the booze ran out it meant it was time for bed. He remembered that sober Tseng didn't like it when drunk Tseng tore the kitchen up looking for more because drunk Tseng had a habit of forgetting to clean up. "I think it's sleep time, Rude."

Rude nodded and laid down on the couch, blinking as the springs creaked loudly. "I sleep here?"

Tseng nodded and staggered to his bedroom, wishing that the floor would stop moving so much so he could walk straight. The awkward sway of the room was making him seasick.

Rude nuzzled the couch cushions with a yawn and Tseng vaguely remembered that he had wanted to be nice and give Rude a spare blanket so he could be warm. As he went to fetch his spare bedding, he realized that he didn't remember where sober Tseng had put them when he had first moved into this apartment. Sober Tseng spent so much time somewhere else to know where he had put everything, but drunk Tseng couldn't remember where sober Tseng spent his time. It didn't matter though, because drunk Tseng could see a nice comfy blanket on sober Tseng's prettily made bed and there was even a pillow! He grabbed them both and struggled to walk back to the living room without tripping over the awkward blanket he carried; hungover Tseng would be angry enough about the headache, he didn't need to have a bunch of bruises too.

The room swayed dangerously as he staggered back to the living room and he had to pause several times and shut his eyes to keep from throwing up. He fervently wished that the room would stop swaying, but the room didn't want to listen to him. He realized, however, that the slower he walked, the slower the room swayed, so he shuffled into the living room at a snail's pace.

Rude was half-asleep already and his sunglasses hung lopsided on his face. His shoes were kicked onto the floor and as he watched Tseng sway into the room he giggled drunkenly. His slurred titters made his ears ring and he held his head as Tseng dropped the blankets on him. A small whimper escaped Tseng's alcohol reddened lips as he swayed, "Make the room stop, Rude."

Rude blinked from where he lay on the couch, unsure of what the room was doing or how to make it stop. "Stop what?"

Tseng blinked and held his head as Rude tucked himself under the crumpled up blanket. "It's movin'. Lots and lots."

Rude giggled and nuzzled his face into the pillow sleepily. "You're the ony one movin', Tseng."

Tseng blinked, "How do I stop?" He was at a loss for what to do about the problem. First the room had started moving, and now Rude said it was him that was moving! It confused his foggy brain and all he wanted was to make everything stop so his stomach wouldn't roll over and spill out his expensive bourbon. It had tasted good on the way down, but if his hiccups were anything to go by it wouldn't taste good on the way back up.

Rude blinked and tried to think of a solution. All he wanted to do now was sleep; his thoughts were fogged and he didn't know how Tseng expected him to solve his problems when he couldn't solve his own. "I dunno…siddown?"

Tseng sat by Rude's side and immediately the swaying sensation decreased in intensity. He could still feel the slightest swing in the room around him, but it could be ignored. Satisfied with the fact that the room had basically stopped, he stood again, intent on getting back to his room to sleep. The room tilted dangerously and he sat back down quickly. He tried repeatedly to get to his feet, but each attempt made the room slip from side to side.

Rude seemed to find his problem extremely funny, if his slurred giggles were anything to go by.

Tseng frowned and clumsily punched Rude's shoulder. "Stop laughin' isn't funny!"

Rude rubbed his shoulder and sobered up just enough to realize that Tseng needed to lie down or that funny green color on his face would make him throw up. He tugged on Tseng's arm until Tseng lay beside him. "Sleep here. I don't mind since ya can't walk straight."

Tseng felt the swaying stop as his head hit the pillow and he decided to take Rude's advice. It seemed that the room had wanted him on his side the whole time, because now it wasn't trying to tip him over. He squirmed under the blanket clumsily and yawned, waiting for sleep to catch hold of his mind. As Rude's arm curled around him and cuddled him closer he found himself thinking about how mad hungover Tseng would be about the position, but he didn't know why. Sometimes hungover Tseng was so picky. Rude was comfortable to sleep beside and even though the lights were still on, something else that would make hungover Tseng mad, he felt himself falling asleep. The lights were so pretty; he could never understand why hungover Tseng didn't like them, but hungover Tseng was a party-pooper anyways, so it didn't matter.

As Tseng's eyelids started to droop a word slipped over his thoughts and he blurted it out. "Keys!"

Rude yawned confusedly into his ear, "What about keys?"

Tseng struggled to think of why keys were suddenly so important, but couldn't find an answer. As he tried to trace his thoughts he heard Rude's breathing turn into a light snore and gave up on the idea. His eyes began to droop shut again and he found he was strangely smug over the word 'keys'.

Author's Note: Wrote this during one of those nifty 4 hour breaks I have between classes at college. Rather entertaining, yes? I

was going to make this chapter continue the whole Rufus/Reno happening on the same night that this chapter takes place, but after listening to all the college weekend stories of hangovers, parties, and excessive boozing I couldn't not make this story about Rude and Tseng getting drunk. My environment influences what I write a little too much at times….

Thanks for everyone's patience in waiting for this update, I know I've been waaaaaay behind lately, but between school, work, domestic disputes, and the trip to Iowa I'm taking soon I've had no free time except during those 4 hour blips of free time. Unfortunately, my writing does not always like to be the most creative and fun during those 4 hour blips.

I need to find a concrete opportune time (that isn't 2 am) where my brain willingly kicks out story ideas and where I have at least 4 uninterrupted hours to put fingers to keyboard or pen to paper.