That noon was like any other over the past weeks to the residents of Edge. Men, women, and children alike contributed something to crafting structures made from re-straightened metal and salvaged wood, whether that was by gripping a hammer or by holding a spatula. Rufus found himself watching those people as the car sped by block after block of pieced together buildings.

How could they not seem to realize how utterly different this day was? That this part of the universe had taken a tailspin into insanity? That he, a man who was supposed to be dead, was chasing after the man who'd saved him. The former president was chasing his employee because...

Because of a kiss. Of a declaration of longstanding desire. Of so many touches that still burned Rufus' skin.

By the time they reached the other side of Edge, much of the anger had left him, partially because his body begged to go back to sleep. The other part, well, he didn't want to admit to what he felt, but he couldn't deny it either, at least to himself.

He was scared. It wasn't an emotion he felt often. Okay, he hardly ever felt it, despite everything. Perhaps because of everything. But now... Now his body practically shook with it, and he wanted to order Richard to turn the car back around far more than he wanted to crucify Tseng for abandoning his bed when the Turk had said he'd stay.

Rufus didn't know if he could take Tseng turning away from him again. At least not on that day when Rufus was so weak in body and mind.

A moment after accepting that reality, his mouth opening to say the words that would help save his already wrecked mind, his driver stopped next to a building. Rufus looked out the tinted window and recognized it. It was the temporary WRO headquarters, with the newer facility being barely built through a generous anonymous donation his pocketbook still felt.

His chauffeur climbed out of the long car that still wasn't quite a limousine and walked around with a well-practiced grace to Rufus' door. Richard opened it with a bowed head while letting in wind that carried the smell of burnt oil, fire, and stale bodies, bringing Rufus to crinkle his face in nauseous revulsion.

The few moments Rufus continued to remained glued to the seat, unwilling to move now for at least three reasons, had Richard looking at him. "Sir?"

Rufus swallowed the fear, nausea, and exhaustion that trembled his body and climbed out of the car with far less grace than his employee. He struggled to control his breathing, his words, as he offered the man a slight smirk and a, "Wait here. I'll only be a short while."

"Yes, sir," Richard said with a nod.

Rufus walked to the large doorway and, behind him, heard the car door close and his chauffeur walk back around the car with his hard-soled shoes. Rufus had to fight the urge with everything in him to not turn around and get right back into that car and demand a quick, retreating passage to the safety of home to people who mostly listened to him. But his feet continued moving forward, well-trained in doing what Rufus knew he had to do.

The guard at the door watched him approach with raised brows. Everyone here knew of Rufus' presumed death. Few knew with their own eyes that that story was false for the most part. This guard was apparently one of the many. When they were close enough for a comfortable conversation, Rufus frowned at the much taller man which managed to burst the soldier into action.

The guard rushed forward to the door and opened it for the former president with a short, forced, "Sir."

Rufus ignored the guard after that, stalking into the building with as much strength as he could muster, ignoring the stunning wooden chairs against the far wall that called to him with a siren's song. He strode right up to the desk that held more than a couple of dents.

When the woman behind it looked up at him from her paperwork, her eyes widened and she instantly jolted to her feet and blurted out, "Mr. Shinra, can I help you, sir?"

"Get me Tseng." His voice left no room for conversation over the matter, and he couldn't help but feel a bit proud of himself.

"Yes, sir," she said with a relieved nod as the tension left her body, probably glad it was something she could accomplish on her own. Or, at least she probably presumed she could, not knowing what had happened last night in Rufus' bed and the resulting reason for Rufus standing in front of her desk.

Ignoring her further as she picked up the phone and started blabbering on it, Rufus looked around the room again, not really seeing it, his mind dwelling on who would be coming out of some hole at any moment if Tseng had any self-preservation in him. At this point, with a hefty amount of adrenaline kicking in, Rufus was raring to go again. He knew he had to be since his newfound strength surely wasn't going to last long.

The clinking of dress shoes on the hard floor drew Rufus' attention to an open doorway. A moment later, there was the former president's every source of misery, shame, loathing, and desire, for the most part, anyway.

Tseng stared at Rufus as Rufus stared back. Rufus only let it last for a few moments before he stalked up to his employee, so ready to do... something. But as Tseng stared at him as only Tseng could with no trace of fear in his eyes, Rufus found his face crinkling up again, but this time fighting tears.

Where the hell had all these tears come from? He hadn't cried so much since his mother's death. In fact, in all the years after, his eyes hadn't moistened once. Now... Now he couldn't seem to stop the water no matter how much he tried.

Instead of saying all of the smart, asshole things Rufus had been planning on saying since he'd woken up, Rufus found himself whispering instead, voice quavering in a way he couldn't stop, "You said you'd stay with me."

Tseng stood stiffly, his face betraying nothing, and Rufus hated himself for his own bared weakness and had to question everything he remembered from the night before. Had he fantasized it all in some hormonal wet dream? Had he gone insane from a lack of food and guilt over everything he'd done to the world? Either one seemed to be a good possibility.

Almost as quietly, Tseng said, "Return home, Sir. You're not well."

Yeah, Rufus was sure he looked like shit. Pale, damp with sweat, unwashed, underfed, diseased with Sephiroth cells that blackened his skin. He didn't want to look at himself either. Of course, Tseng hadn't turned away yet, staring at him with a coldness that snuffed the supposed smiles and kisses from the night before. Then again, what would Tseng dare to do out in public? Shove him to the car like Rufus was a disobedient child? The Turk obviously dared to do such things in Rufus' home, but here, in the presence of strangers, Tseng was apparently merely going to will Rufus home with his icy, unbreakable demeanor.

As Rufus stared back, feeling up to the challenge, proving how childish he truly was, Rufus lifted a hand and feathered just the tips of his fingers along Tseng's tight jaw. The other man didn't move. Tseng didn't even breathe as Rufus' own breaths quickened. The whole room, the world seemed to go quiet with that touch.

Then, just when the fingers ghosted over Tseng's hard, tense lips that Rufus was sure he knew could be so soft, the Turk sucked in a breath, his eyes closing, his hand grabbing Rufus' in a grip that bordered on painful, yanking it down to their sides.

"Rufus..."

Rufus. Hearing his own name from Tseng's lips... Suddenly he didn't feel so crazy. Suddenly he was sure all of it had happened. Suddenly he was sure Tseng wanted him.

Rufus licked his dry lips. "Please, Tseng. Please come home with me."

He'd never been one to beg. He'd never had to. He'd always been given what he wanted. Well, except when his mother had died and left him alone in the world that hated him because he was a Shinra, never mind what he would come to do to the world.

But he suddenly realized that he wasn't beyond begging. That Tseng was worth the humiliation of it. That he'd go to any length to make Tseng his.

Then again, maybe he was crazy.

And what did it matter? He was dead anyway, right? More than once, in fact. Why not fight for what he truly wanted, what he'd wanted for years, whether he'd admitted that fact to himself in that time or not? Crazier things had happened to him, admittedly not by much but crazy enough.

Tseng opened his softened eyes and studied Rufus, searching. His free hand came up much the way Rufus' had, drifting over the skin of Rufus' bare neck, sending a shiver through Rufus' body. Soon enough, that hand gripped the back of Rufus' neck, restricting his movement, unless, of course, Rufus wanted to move forward.

"You truly are the most stubborn, spoiled, selfish man I have ever met. Even now, after everything, you think you can..."

Normally such words would have brought out instant revolt and the need for absolute obedience from his subordinate. Instead, his heart thudding, bringing dizziness to swim his head, the former president closed his eyes. "Can what?"

Huffing, Tseng's forehead suddenly met with Rufus'. Blue eyes flashed open and saw that Tseng had his eyes closed. The sight of it, the trustfulness, Tseng's possessive grip, their closeness, it all melted Rufus until he was sure he was just a pile of hormones. In the lobby of the WRO building.

When Tseng didn't say any more, Rufus once again closed his eyes and pleaded quietly, "Come home with me."

Rufus could hear the smile in the, "As if I could say no to you."

It was Rufus' turn to huff. "That's all you've been saying these past few days."

"Yes... But underneath it, ever since... I've always said yes."

Rufus frowned, looking at the other man the best he could with their closeness. "Ever since what?"

Tseng pulled his head away, smiling at Rufus with eyes that spoke of the purest affection. All for him. "Ever since I fell in love with a brat who will always be so far out of my league."

Not giving Rufus a chance to reply, the Turk claimed his mouth, kissing him with a passion a few people had tried to offer Rufus before, passion he'd never accepted before that moment. Rufus kissed back, not caring who saw, in fact, wanting everyone to see that he was finally getting what he'd truly wanted for far too long.

...Never mind that he would soon be dead.