My drabbles seem to be getting longer. *shrugs* Oh well, it's not as if I were sticking to the technical definition anyway. Some "snapshots" need more words than others!

Warnings? Not really. A smidge of colorful language and hints at future Reno/Rufus. Disclaimer? Except for my Reno figurine and the couple of video games I have, I own nothing ffvii.

Enjoy.

fire mystic

Line of Fire

The concrete wall was rough and cold, even through the layers of his suit, and Reno was handling him roughly, bodily pushing Rufus as if it might be possible to imprint him into the wall, effectively using his own body to shield Rufus.

Why don't I ever listen, Rufus thought. Tseng had warned him about this meeting, warned him that protection would be difficult here. But no, he had insisted it would be fine. And now, here he was, back literally to the wall, with the youngest and newest Turk on the payroll the only thing between him and the flying bullets.

"Son-of-a-bitch," Reno swore under his breath, wrenching Rufus hard to the right as he pushed him down further against the concrete.

Rufus had about a half a second to wonder if he should try to get free and take his chances on his own. Was Reno really the best chance he had at survival? Maybe this was Tseng's way of rubbing it in; of saying "I told you so". Tseng wasn't like that, though, and had reassured Rufus that despite what Rufus knew or might have heard, his concerns about Reno's age, inexperience, cocky attitude, pranks, and laziness, Reno would do his job.

He heard the bullet, first as Reno hissed a violent "fuck" and flinched, and then as it continued its trajectory, whistling past them, and further as it impacted mere inches from their heads with a sickening thunk in the concrete. Dust, shards of rock, and a splatter of something warm and wet hit Rufus' cheek.

Was that blood? Rufus couldn't see well enough in the dim light, and panic flared through him as Reno's body sagged heavily against him for a moment. He shifted to better balance himself in case he had to run.

"Stop fighting me, Rufus."

Reno's use of his name registered vaguely. Reno never called him by his name.

Reno caught his weight against arms braced tightly on either side of Rufus' shoulders. Rufus felt the muscles tighten and shift under the cover of the Turk's suit and Rufus became aware of the Turk in a way he hadn't been before. He had wondered why Tseng bothered with this kid, but for all he could figure, Reno had just been shot. For him. And he was still standing, still with him, still calm and in control of the situation. And he was strong, deceptively so, shifting Rufus with little to no effort.

There was the screeching of car tires, another volley of bullets, and the air became eerily silent and still. In the peripheral of the headlights, Rufus couldn't see past Reno's shoulder, the long, distinctive line of his neck, which was glistening with a light sheen of sweat and to which a stray strand of hair clung.

Rufus' imagination took over, creating a scene that was similar but in an entirely different context, Reno above him, breathing hard, positioning him, sweating over him.

What would his skin, his sweat, taste like?

Rufus shook away the invading wayward thought just as Reno pulled slightly away. He couldn't let himself get distracted like this. He had kept his attractions to himself up to this point, and he couldn't risk Reno, or anyone else who worked for his father, finding out the truth of it.

Fingers snapped in his face, and he startled, looking up to find Reno standing over him, reaching out a hand to help him up. Averting his eyes, he took the hand, feeling the flex of muscle in those slim fingers as Reno pulled him to his feet, hoping he could school his expression before Reno could interpret it for what it was. He wasn't as steady as he thought, his balance wavering slightly as he stood. Then Reno was close, standing right up against him, anchoring him, his hair brushing against Rufus' face, his breath moistening the shell of his ear as he spoke.

"Easy, Bossman. You ain't got nothing to worry 'bout, yo." Rufus felt Reno's lips brush his ear and his hand on his shoulder, innocent gestures, Rufus convinced himself as he stared hard at the blood seeping through the torn fabric of Reno's sleeve.

"Give it time, Rufus, and you'll learn to let me take care of you."

Reno stepped back, his eyes raking Rufus from head to toe and back again, his hands sliding from his shoulders to straighten the lapel of Rufus' jacket and then smooth the narrow tie into place. He met Rufus' gaze briefly before turning away, and Rufus knew. From the gleam in Reno's eye, from the quirk of his lip, almost a smile, but not quite, from the relaxed, easy sway in Reno's body as he walked away, even from the his lazy gait, Rufus knew.

There was nothing innocent about Reno's gestures at all.

Reno stood with his back to Rufus as Tseng inspected the wound on Reno's arm and Reno watched, shrugging as if it simply didn't matter and all Rufus could think, all he could hear was "...you'll learn to let me take care of you".

And Rufus was sure that promise had nothing to do with Reno taking a bullet for him.