The Conscience of the King
				Chapter Four:  Try Not To Breathe

	"I will try not to burden you. I can hold these inside.
	I can hold my breath until all these shivers subside.
	Just look in my eyes. I want you to remember."
			-- REM

	"Hi."

	"Hey."

	"I brought the popcorn."

	Rufus smiled a little, holding the door open to let Reeve in. "Good
thing, too. I don't think there are any munchies in this entire damn
building. All I've got is beer and other assorted booze." He stepped back,
gesturing to indicate that Reeve should enter. "Come on in; I was just
finishing up some work."

	Reeve laughed as he stepped into the room, tossing the bag of popcorn on
the little hall table. "Now there's a shock. Are you ever /not/ finishing up
some work?"

	"Yeah. When I've just started some work." Rufus's smile spread. "Have a
seat; I'll be done in a second." He headed back over to the desk, frowning
at the screen of the laptop and losing himself in its distraction within
seconds.

	Reeve used the time to look around the room once again; no matter how
many times he was invited up into Rufus's apartment, he never quite got used
to the impact it had on him. Rufus lived in the employee apartments,
connected to the main building by little more than a few access tunnels and
a few sky-high walkways; his rooms were on the fifty-ninth floor, one floor
down from the penthouse suite his father lived in, and took up precisely
half of the square footage of the level. (The other half, Rufus had lamented
on more than one occasion, was tenanted by Scarlet, who used the fact that
they were neighbors to her full advantage.) 

	The rooms suited Rufus, Reeve decided, as he always did, slipping off
his jacket and settling it neatly on the back of a handy chair. The room
that served as office and living area was large, almost obscenely so; it was
a rough oval shape, paneled in some dark wood that reflected any available
light and showed off the hidden fire in its depths. The edge of one wall was
taken up by a small island kitchen that very rarely saw much use; another
wall sported a large-screen TV, equally unused. Next to the door to the
hallway was the door that led, Reeve assumed, into the bedroom area; he'd
never been in there, but he assumed that was where all of the outside walls
were, since there were no windows in the living area. The room suited its
occupant; lush, luxorious, but tainted with the casual sort of neglect that
indicated its primary occupant had grown up surrounded in that luxury and
took it for granted. 

	He sank into the enveloping couch at about the same time Rufus made a
little noise of satisfaction, powering down the laptop and rising from the
desk chair. "There, that's done," Rufus said, cheerfully. "What are you in
the mood to watch?"

	Reeve knew better by now than to ask Rufus what he had been doing;
Saturday evenings, he had learned, were Rufus's private work-time, and he
seemed to have any number of secretive projects in the air at any one time.
"Doesn't matter. Why don't you go ahead and pick something? What do you
have?"

	"What don't I have," Rufus laughed, and jerked a thumb at the rack of
videotapes that were overflowing next to the television. "You want a beer?"

	"Sure." Reeve put his feet up on the coffeetable; it was the kind of
room you could do that in. "I have no idea what I'm in the mood for. Deep,
funny, girly, shoot-em-up. You pick."

	The beer came flying over the counter, burying itself in the cushions of
the sofa just next to Reeve; Reeve yelped and flinched, before chuckling
wryly and picking it out of the cushions. Rufus laughed. "Sorry. Tseng
usually catches 'em. You in the mood to watch them shoot up Midgar?" He came
back around the counter, setting his own beer on the coffeetable next to the
popcorn.

	Reeve raised an eyebrow at Rufus's reference to Tseng, but made no
further comment. "I think I can handle that," he said, with a smirk. Idly,
he popped open his beer, sucking the foam off the top of the can.

	"They actually filmed this one over in your neighborhood," Rufus said,
crossing over to the TV and tapping his fingers against the rack of tapes,
then flipping one out with a brisk motion. "Over at the abandoned office
thing off of 124th. 'Scalled 'Die Hard'." He snagged the remote and dropped
into the cushions of the couch, right next to Reeve. 

	"Oh, /kickass/!" Reeve perked up a bit, not aware that in doing so, he
moved just that fraction of an inch closer to Rufus. "I've been meaning to
rent it. I've heard some pretty good things about it."

	Rufus laughed, putting his feet up on the expensive, antique coffee
table with supreme disregard for its well-being. "I thought you might. You
don't ever need to /rent/ anything, Reeve; I've got half the flicks to come
out of Midgar Studios in the past fifteen years. As I'm sure you can tell."
He grinned.

	Through a mouthful of popcorn, Reeve chuckled. "I'll keep that in mind,"
he said, swallowing. Comfortably, he settled into the couch.

	With a laugh, Rufus picked up the remote and hit play. After the usual
previews and promos -- fastforwarded right through -- the movie itself
began; Reeve was startled to find himself enjoying the quick, snappy
dialogue as much as he was. ~Heh,~ he thought, wryly, watching the enfolding
story; ~is it any real surprise that Shinra is the good guys?~ About fifteen
minutes into the film, Rufus murmured, "Did you notice they're using Scar's
favorite guns in this movie? She was one of the location consultants."

	Reeve was jolted out of concentrating on the movie (~Ignoring him not
two feet away from you, and you damn well know it~) by Rufus's voice. "Oh.
Really." Somehow, that didn't surprise him very much. At all. 

	Rufus chuckled. "Yeah. She enjoyed it." His tone turned wry. "Something
about the star being really cute in his underwear; I didn't want to know
much more. She was trying to make me jealous again." He finished off his
beer and crushed the can in one hand, tossing it across the expanse of room
to the bin that held the recycling.

	~Did it work?~ Reeve choked down the thought and laughed. "I don't blame
you." He drained the rest of his beer in one big gulp and imitated the
throw, hitting the can with an equal degree of accuracy. "You, uh -- want
another?"

	With a laugh, Rufus hit pause on the movie and stood, stretching. "Sure.
Why the hell not. You?"

	"Does a bear shit in the woods? Yes, I want another." Reeve watched
Rufus stand and proceed to the kitchen, out of the corner of his eyes.
"Actually -- What else have you got in there?"

	"What else do you want?" Rufus smirked, leaning his palms on the
counter. "If I don't have it, it's probably really obscure. There's a whole
damn slew of bottles that are gathering dust back here; pick your poison."

	"Right. Point." Reeve chuckled, and thought a bit, then let his mouth
answer the question before really consulting his brain. "Surprise me.
Something ... sweet. With a kick." 

	The smile on Rufus's face was just this side of evil. "Sure thing. Go
ahead and hit play again; I've seen this one a hundred times." As the
bottles began to clink, Reeve did; on the screen, the hero began to realize
that he was, indeed, in Deep Shit. A few minutes later, Rufus arrived
bearing two medium-sized glasses, filled with a pale liquid and some crushed
ice; he shouldered off the recessed track lighting as he went, plunging the
room into near-darkness. He handed one glass over to Reeve and dropped back
onto the couch with his own.

	It did not escape Reeve's notice that Rufus had settled into the spot
where his arm would go if he were to slide it off the back of the couch.
Perhaps that was why he drained half his drink in one gulp. "Oh, Ramuh --"
he spluttered, coughing and laughing all at once. "Damn -- that's ... not
bad."

	Rufus laughed, settling comfortably into the couch and tucking his legs
up and to one side, in a much more relaxed sprawl than usually befitted his
dignity. "Don't ask what's in it," he laughed. "I don't think I could tell
you."

	"I learned a long time ago that if it tastes okay, you don't ask what it
is," Reeve chuckled, taking a more civilized sip from his drink. He kicked
off his shoes at last, tucking his feet up underneath him and relaxing just
a fraction more.

	"Wise man." Rufus nodded, and then glanced back at the screen. "Oh,
here's where the good guy manages to figure out what's going on." He
laughed, just a little. "And the shooting really starts." He sipped from his
own drink and settled comfortably just inside the outer ranges of Reeve's
personal space. 

	Reeve glanced over at Rufus... back at the movie... back at Rufus...
back at the movie. He finished his drink off and set the glass down, feeling
pleasantly buzzed and at the same time, very, very wired.

	Rufus didn't seem to be noticing Reeve's presence in the room; his
jawline stood out strongly, lit by flickering TV-glow, and a little smile
rounded his lips. He could have been very subtly leaning towards Reeve ...
or he could have just been comfortable. ~Behave, Rufus. You haven't touched
him in two weeks, he hasn't touched you in two weeks, it was one crazy night
that you've both been trying to forget.~

	But the truth of it was, Reeve had given up trying to forget about it a
mere few days after it had happened. He risked another quick glance at
Rufus, then he slid his arm off the back of the couch and back to his side.
On the way down, his fingertips just barely brushed against Rufus's
shoulder, and Reeve could almost see little arcs of electricity shooting
between his fingers and Rufus's shoulder.

	A single muscle in Rufus's jaw twitched, nearly invisibly, at Reeve's
touch. His fingers, curled around the glass in his lap, tightened just a
little on it, and he raised his drink to his lips without looking to his
side. No matter how much he wanted to. And yet ... he didn't draw back. If
anything, he shifted just slightly, so that the edge of one of his knees
brushed Reeve's.

	Reeve sat there, staring at the screen without really paying attention
to the movie. His full attention was focused on that one tiny point of
contact between him and Rufus, and without even being aware of it, he
shifted his leg just the tiniest bit necessary to maintain it.

	~I'm not imagining that, am I.~ Rufus knocked back the last of his drink
while in the middle of an internal debate, and leaned forward to place the
empty glass on the coffeetable. He let the little internal voice of wisdom
take a little nap, and on his way leaning back, let his fingers casually
trail over Reeve's lower thigh. An accident. Purely and simply an accident.

	Despite all his efforts, Reeve could not help but let slip a small, soft
gasp at the touch.

	Rufus heard that gasp, and -- tentatively, casually -- he let his
fingers brush Reeve's knee once more, trailing their way along with a slow,
almost teasing hesitance. He didn't turn his head from the television
screen, his profile strongly lit by the Cunning Plot being played out on the
screen. Reeve pretended to be engrossed in said Cunning Plot as Rufus's
fingers trailed over his knee, but he could not disguise the sudden
quickness of his breathing.

	Without a word, without even turning his head, Rufus curled his fingers
a little, his nails feather-teasing as they slowly, ever so slowly, skimmed
upwards.

	Reeve shivered a little; it was useless to pretend to be watching the
movie now, so Reeve just closed his eyes and sighed softly at Rufus's touch.
Taking that as slight encouragement -- taking that as a hell of a lot /more/
than "slight" encouragement -- Rufus uncurled his fingers, running his palm
up Reeve's thigh. Curiously, he turned his head, smiling just a little at
the expression on Reeve's face; he lifted his hand before it could go much
further, to brush knuckles along Reeve's jawline. Still, he spoke no word.

	A soft moan worked its way out of Reeve's throat, and he leaned his head
against Rufus's hand, just a little, giving it just the slightest nuzzle.
His own hand rose to brush tentative fingertips along Rufus's wrist. Rufus
turned just a hair more, shifting on the couch so that he was more facing
Reeve than the screen. His thumb brushed Reeve's lips, softly, gently, and
his gaze was intent and hungry, offering wordless encouragement.

	"Oh..." The tiny murmur slipped past barely parted lips. Reeve's hand
curled around Rufus's wrist--not pushing away, not pulling closer, just
resting there. 

	Rufus stroked Reeve's lips again, and then -- emboldened by the small
syllable -- he leaned forward, his lips brushing Reeve's with a strange,
almost shy sort of hesitance. Reeve let out another little whimpering noise
and returned the kiss, a bit timidly. He released Rufus's wrist, choosing
instead to rest his hand on Rufus's upper arm. 

	Rufus's lips offered wordless encouragement, as his hand trailed down
the side of Reeve's face. Gently, almost reverently, he traced the contours
of Reeve's cheek, his jaw, his neck, fingers skimming down to brush the
hollow of Reeve's throat. 

	The movie played on, forgotten.

	Again Reeve's lips parted; this time his tongue flicked out for barely a
fraction of a second before retreating again. His fingers tightened their
grip on Rufus's arm.

	Rufus brushed the hollow of Reeve's throat again, and then let his lips
fall from the other's. With a series of light kisses, he ran his lips along
Reeve's jaw, nuzzling ever so lightly, his tongue flicking out to taste his
skin as he went. Slowly, tentatively, his hand curved over Reeve's shoulder.

	~Oh. My. God...~ Reeve leaned his head against Rufus's with a tiny
murmur. He let go of Rufus's arm and trailed his fingertips across the
other's chest, his touch feather-light. Almost imperceptably, Rufus leaned
into Reeve's touch, his teeth lightly nipping at an earlobe before taking it
between his lips, softly. His hand slid down Reeve's shoulder and around to
caress Reeve's upper chest, the palm splaying across the soft shirt /ever/
so lightly.

	"Rufus..." The name was barely whispered, escaping Reeve's throat as
little more than a sigh. He slid his hand up Rufus's chest to trace
fingertips up his neck, as if mapping the contours of his body.

	Rufus's breath was hot against Reeve's ear. "Yes," he said, answering
his name not as a question but as an acknowledgement. His lips trailed down
Reeve's neck, lightly nipping as he went, and he shifted so that he was
facing Reeve fully, pulling him just a /little/ closer.

	Reeve groaned a little louder, and now his body was beginning to
register the effects of Rufus's attention. Although the room was a little
warm, he was shivering against Rufus, and his fingertips shook as they
whispered up Rufus's neck.

	Rufus nipped lightly, a soft encouragement, as he brought his lips back
up over Reeve's chin and grazed them lightly over Reeve's. The kiss was a
little more demanding this time, a little less hesitant, and he drew Reeve
nearer to him gently.

	Gently, carefully, Reeve slipped his fingertips under the collar of
Rufus's shirt to explore the soft skin beneath. His tongue flicked out again
to taste Rufus's lips, a little less tentatively than before. Rufus let out
a soft moan, though whether at Reeve's touch or his kiss, it was uncertain.
His tongue met Reeve's, as gentle as their first kiss had been rough, and
his hand slid down Reeve's chest slowly, almost teasingly.

	Reeve shifted a bit on the couch, more out of discomfort due to certain
other responses to Rufus's actions than anything. His lips parted just a bit
more to allow Rufus to explore his mouth; his tongue slid against Rufus's to
do the same. Rufus's lips were a soft coaxing, his tongue dancing along
Reeve's, as his hand traced circles along Reeve's chest. Without Reeve
really noticing it, the third button of his shirt followed the other two,
parting underneath Rufus's fingers.

	Reeve moaned again, the sound almost lost against Rufus's mouth. His
fingers continued their exploration of the skin hiding under Rufus's collar,
creeping as far under that boundary as they could.

	Rufus's fingers trailed further down Reeve's chest, whisper-soft, and
the fourth button yielded to a quick flick of the fingers; Rufus's palm ran
up over the revealed skin, before he broke off the kiss and once more
trailed his lips down over the soft skin that his explorations had revealed.

	Reeve moaned again, louder now. His entire body shook with--what?
Excitement? Desire? Fear? Maybe a little of all of the above? He didn't
know...a small voice in the back of his head began to whimper at him, but he
paid it no heed. As Rufus let his tongue taste Reeve's collarbone, savoring
the feel of skin beneath tongue, another button fell victim to his practiced
fingers. His other hand finally rose from the couch, tangling in Reeve's
hair, the thumb stroking the side of Reeve's jawline.

	"God..." Reeve moaned, leaning into Rufus's touch. Almost hesitantly,
his hands went to Rufus's shirt, pulling it free from the waistband of his
slacks just enough to slip his hands under it and trace timid fingertips
over Rufus's stomach. Rufus let out a small hissing moan against Reeve's
skin, and nipped lightly in counterpoint, in encouragement. The last button
parted, and Rufus pulled back, slightly, his eyes twin sapphire flames as he
ran his hands along the expanse of skin thus revealed. One thumb grazed
Reeve's nipple, lightly.

	Reeve drew in a sharp gasp as Rufus's thumb whispered over that
sensitive spot, and his back arched just a little. His own hands mirrored
the action, sliding gently up Rufus's chest.

	Rufus bit his lip, lowering his eyes to hide the spark that Reeve's
tentative touch invoked in them. ~Slowly, Rufus. Slowly ...~ The inner
caution was lost as he dropped his head again, flicking out his tongue to
graze Reeve's nipple ever so lightly.

	Reeve let out a soft yelp, fingers momentarily curling into claws
against Rufus's chest before relaxing again. ~Stop it,~ the little voice in
his mind whimpered again, and Reeve himself whimpered wordlessly in reply.

	Rufus's fingers skimmed down Reeve's sides, lightly, then back up to cup
his face as Rufus lifted his head and once more claimed Reeve's lips. The
barely-restrained passion deeply buried flares in that touch, burning
brightly and threatening to overwhelm.

	"Oh G--" was all Reeve had time to say before Rufus's mouth met his own
again. His hands slid back down to Rufus's waist and rested there, fingers
trembling like leaves. 

	Rufus slid his hands down Reeve's arms as he deepened the kiss,
wordlessly drawing Reeve's hands between his, just holding on to them. ~It's
all right,~ that touch seemed to be saying. ~Just let yourself go...~

	Reeve clutched at Rufus's hands, holding on to them as if they were a
lifeline. It was as if his body could hear the message Rufus's touch was
transmitting, and damn it, he /wanted/ to let go... Rufus's lips whispered
over his again, then returned once more, as if to drag every last bit of
response from him ... almost as if he were starving, and Reeve was the only
food in miles. Gently, he lifted Reeve's hands, placing them on either side
of his own face.

	Reeve stroked his thumbs over the smooth contours of Rufus's cheekbones,
touching Rufus as if the other man were spun from tiny ice crystals and
could shatter at any time. His breathing grew quick and ragged, and again
the little voice tried to make itself heard -- ~stop it.~ And again Reeve
pushed it aside as Rufus stroked the backs of his hands lightly for just a
moment, before returning his touch to Reeve's chest. Rufus's breathing was
labored with the effort to /control/ himself as he deepened the kiss once
more, a little more of his control eroding... Reeve jumped a little as
Rufus's tongue probed deeper into his mouth; he whimpered softly, the sound
all but lost in the depths of the kiss. 

	The sound was heard, though, and Rufus pulled back. His face was
flushed, his breathing rapid, as he studied Reeve's face, his eyes blazing
with the promise of all he'd like to do. "What is it?" he asked, his voice
terrible and beautiful all at once. "What's wrong?"

	Reeve's eyes dropped away from Rufus's, although his hands remained
where they were. "I--I've never--" With a struggle to tame the beast raging
inside him, Rufus just waited for Reeve to finish the sentence. Reeve drew a
deep, shaky breath and let it out in a sigh. "I've never done this."

	An expression of puzzlement took hold on Rufus's face, and he drew back
just a little. "Never ... you mean with another ..." 

	Reeve let out a soft, nervous, embarrassed chuckle. "No...with anyone."

	There was a moment, and then Rufus drew back, lifting his hands to
Reeve's and just gathering them in his own. Unnoticed, the movie finished
rolling the credits and the screen went to blue, providing the only
illumination in the room. "You're ... you're not kidding, are you." His tone
was soft, almost amazed, as he stroked his thumbs along the backs of Reeve's
knuckles.

	With another little sigh, Reeve shook his head /no./ Even in the
television's dim light, Rufus could see that he was roughly the same color
as the average tomato. Rufus just looked at him for a long minute ... and
then took a deep breath, and with a supreme act of will, forced his body to
calm down. It worked. Mostly. He shifted so that he was sitting next to
Reeve more, still holding onto Reeve's hands. "I'm sorry," he said, lowly.
"Do you -- do you want to talk about it?"

	Reeve shrugged a little, letting out another tiny nervous chuckle. "Not
much to talk about," he offered. "I mean, there's been times when I /wanted/
to, but when it came down to it I -- I just couldn't."

	Rufus closed his eyes again, and a small, little shudder ran through his
body. ~Of all the people you could have... don't think about that, Rufus.~
"Why?" he asks, curiously, his hands burning against Reeve's skin.

	There was another little shrug. "I don't know...I just get scared when I
get this close to someone..."

	Rufus pulled back, just a little bit more, but he didn't let go of
Reeve's hands; his thumbs traced patterns on the backs of Reeve's knuckles.
"Did I scare you?" he asked, softly.

	Reeve nodded, a motion so tiny it would have been missed had it not been
watched for. "A little," he admitted sheepishly.

	Rufus lifted one of Reeve's hands to his lips, pressing a kiss into his
palm and then holding it against his cheek. "I'm sorry," he says, softly,
his eyes studying Reeve carefully, almost as if Reeve was a china shop and
he was a bull. "I didn't realize..."

	Reeve closed his eyes and fought to calm himself down. His breathing was
still shallow and quick, and the thumb that stroked Rufus's cheek trembled
like a leaf about to fall. "No... I -- I should have warned you," he
offered, his voice cracking unpleasantly as it came up from his dry throat. 

	Eyes soft and concerned, Rufus asked, "What is it that scares you,
Reeve?"

	"I--" Reeve drew a deep, shaky breath and let it out in a sigh. "Um --
what I just told you about not doing this before--wasn't entirely true."

	Something seemed to spark in Rufus's eyes, some sort of understanding --
a sick suspicion that he clearly didn't want to entertain. He took a moment
to find the words, and finally settled on, "Whatever you say goes no
further, Reeve." Slowly, he stood, and headed for the refrigerator. "And I
think you need a drink."

	Reeve nodded a bit, visibly reluctant to let go of Rufus's hand even
then. "Yeah," he agreed simply.

	The clink of glasses sounded in the kitchenette, a low murmur underneath
Rufus's voice. "What happened, Reeve?" he asked, softly, coming back and
handing over a glass, putting his own on the table. He didn't quite move to
sit back down next to Reeve, though ... and a strange impulse, one that even
he couldn't fully describe, sent him back around the couch to stand behind
Reeve and begin gently rubbing his shoulders. ~Perhaps,~ he thought, ~it
would be easier for him to talk without looking at me...~

	"Thanks." Reeve gratefully accepted the glass, drank from it, and
coughed softly. A soft sound somewhere between a moan and a sigh slipped
past his lips as Rufus began to rub his shoulders, and his eyes drooped
closed. "I...I have..." Rufus just waited, with the closest to patience that
quite possibly had ever been seen out of him, his thumbs stroking the tense
lines of Reeve's shoulders and neck. He did not speak, choosing to give
Reeve as much time as he needed. Reeve took one more drink from the glass
and set it down on the table again. "It wasn't exactly--by choice..."

	A soft little hissing sound escaped from Rufus, and his hands stilled
for a moment, and then slid halfway down Reeve's chest, giving him the
closest to a hug that he could manage from his position. "I'd hoped you
weren't going to say that," he said, voice soft, "and I was scared you
would... Do you -- do you want to talk about it? Or do you want me to just
.. to just back off and leave you alone?"

	One of Reeve's hands came up and curled around one of Rufus's. "I don't
really want to talk about it -- like I said, talking about it means I have
to think about it--" His hand tightened around Rufus's. "But I don't want
you to leave me alone either..."

	Rufus nodded, and -- listening to the stunted, barely-present voice in
the back of his head that was prompting him to offer /some/ comfort -- came
back around to sit back on the couch without letting Reeve's hand go, close
enough that Reeve could lean on him if he wished, far enough so that he was
not /quite/ intruding on personal space. "I'm not going anywhere," he said,
quietly, once more stroking the back of Reeve's hand with a thumb, ignoring
the fact that it was his suite. "Have you ever -- have you ever talked about
it with anyone?"

	Maybe Reeve was thinking about leaning on Rufus. Maybe... but he didn't.
"Not really," he replied with a little shrug. "I never really felt like I
needed to talk about it. It doesn't even bother me anymore most of the
time...sometimes I have nightmares, but that doesn't even happen much..."

	Rufus sighed just a little and reached out for his own drink, knocking
it back with a quick motion. The very faintest hint of anger simmered well
back in the back of his eyes, well-hidden, at the thought. "How old were
you?" he asked, still softly, and then shook his head. "Never mind. Forget I
asked."

	"It's okay," Reeve whispered, offering up a small tired smile. He /did/
lean on Rufus then, just a little; his forehead rested on the other man's
shoulder lightly, the contact almost nonexistant. 

	Rufus's hand reached up, almost hesitantly, to stroke Reeve's hair,
offering wordless comfort. "I just can't imagine it," he confessed. "The
thought makes my problems with my father seem nonexistent..." 

	Reeve seemed to give a little snuggle of sorts, his eyes drifting closed
once more. "You know how hard it is to piss me off, right?" he asked Rufus
softly. Before the other man could answer, he continued. "When you came to
my office that night after he hit you... God, for a second I just wanted to
kill him..."

	A small soft little noise of disgust escaped Rufus's lips. "It was
nothing," he said, his voice going a little flat even as his fingers begin
running through Reeve's hair. "I've gotten worse from Tseng in training
hundreds of times... Hell, I've gotten worse bruise marks from /Scarlet/. I
was just angry at him." He sighed, just a little, and shifted so that Reeve
could lean against him more effectively.

	Reeve shook his head. "That's not the point...it doesn't matter how bad
it was. It mattered that he did it at all." Despite his best efforts, he was
unable to stifle a yawn as he began to relax again, thanks to the
combination of the alcohol and Rufus's gentle touch.

	"Reeve," Rufus said, suddenly, out of nowhere, "I want you to know that
I don't want to ever hurt you. Ever." He pressed a soft kiss against Reeve's
hair, sighing just a little. 

	With a soft sigh, Reeve snuggled against Rufus's shoulder a bit more
firmly. "I trust you," he finally whispered.

	Was that little murmur words? If it was, they would have been "That
makes one of us," certainly ... but they could have just been a sigh. "I'm
-- I'm not going to say that I don't want you, Reeve," Rufus said, honestly.
"Does that -- does that thought worry you?"

	Reeve opened his eyes again and looked up at Rufus. "Not really," he
replied.

	Rufus sighed, just a little, and a subtle little bit of tension that he
didn't even know he was holding onto left his body. "Good," he whispered,
and once more brushed his lips along Reeve's hair. "Let me know if I -- if I
scare you again..."

	"I will." Reeve closed his eyes again, dimly aware that it probably
wouldn't be a good idea for him to fall asleep here, at least not tonight;
that small rational thought was rapidly being drowned out by the simple need
for rest.

	Rufus smiled just a little at the soft little sleepy voice, and
continued stroking Reeve's hair, his fingers running down to trace little
patterns along Reeve's cheeks. "Are you falling asleep?" he asked, his voice
amused.

	Reeve laughed softly. "I think so," he murmured. "Ugh...maybe I should
go home..."

	"Stay here," Rufus invited, "if you don't mind the rumors that will no
doubt spring into being the moment you show your head tomorrow morning ...
I'd worry about you getting home..."

	Reeve wanted to protest. He really did. But what he did instead was
murmur "Okay," and promptly drift off to sleep.

	Rufus chuckled, feeling the other's breathing slow and deepen against
him, and could not help but murmur, "And I shall sit guard to ensure that
what dreams may come shall not give you pause..."

	 He sat there, fingers absently skimming over Reeve's skin, not moving
again for a very long time. Finally, long after any observer would have
concluded that the motionless man had turned into stone or never been flesh
to begin with, he gently extracted himself from beneath Reeve and stood,
looking down for a long moment before turning to fetch a blanket. "What am I
going to do about this," he murmured, to himself, in a tone of weary
resignation. "How am I going to handle this..." 

	There was no response from the slumbering form on his couch, though he
hadn't quite expected there to be. After another long moment, he turned and
blindly fumbled towards the bedroom. The windows looked out onto the lights
of Midgar, as Rufus fell onto the bed to stare into the room's unrelenting
darkness with eyes wide open, finding nothing but more questions.

				-- * --

	Sundays were, on the whole, an excellent day to catch up on paperwork.
No one would come running into Rufus's office waving a file folder full of
Important Documents that needed to be attended to immediately; no one would
barge in with yet another problem needing to be added to the stack of issues
that needed to be solved within the next ten minutes. He shared the building
with no one else save the janitorial staff -- and if that staff happened to
be more concerned with watching the Midgar Rockets schmooze their way into
the playoffs... well, as far as Rufus was concerned it was just a little
more peace and quiet.

	Today, though, there was very little peace mixed in with his quiet. He
should not, of course, have been able to gain access to the file that was in
his lap. That fact had never stopped him before, though, and had not slowed
him down this time. It had taken some time to get the information, but he
had started looking after that night in his apartment, the night that Reeve
had finally let slip what had happened to him. And now, for the past two
hours, he had been reading through it, sickened and disgusted, aware only of
a steadily-rising anger that was beginning to burn its way through him.

	The label on the folder read "State vs. McAllister", and it was, as far
as Rufus could tell, a completely accurate and factual portrayal of Reeve's
childhood. The doctor's reports, garnered from the Gongagan authorities:
Broken arm at age four, from a 'playground accident'. Black eye and cut lip,
age five, from falling down the stairs ... evidence of chronic use of Cure
materia, each use leaving behind that telltale partial-healing that made
doctors reluctant to rely on it for treating heavy trauma. Each of the
incidents officially reported as an accident, each of the reports containing
notes from the doctors that cast just a little bit of doubt on that official
judgement.

	And then ... the police report from that night. Domestic dispute. Shots
fired, potential injuries... Rufus could almost conjure the picture in his
mind, of an eight-year old Reeve, huddled next to his mother on the floor,
both of them barely conscious. Reeve's father, sprawled out on the floor
with a bullet wound to the shoulder, his blood soaking the carpet. And the
gun lying there ... the gun that had been fired by someone in the room, and
the ballistic reports and fingerprints evidence were fairly adamant on the
fact that it had been Reeve.

	~God. No wonder he's still so damn scared to open up to someone; I would
be too, if I'd gone through that. Eight years old, for Ramuh's sake.~ The
transcripts of the trial were even uglier; Rufus could barely stand to read
them. ~And no wonder he changed his name too when his mother finally
remarried...~ Thankfully, not even the scum lawyer that had represented
Reeve's father had been able to override the evidence, and the asshole was
now quite thoroughly ensconced in Gongaga's prison.

	Sighing, Rufus dropped the file onto his desk, running a hand through
his hair. It sickened him, to think that there were people out there who did
things like that; it shocked him to realize just how disgusted he really
was. ~Am I ... am I worried for him, or angry on his behalf?~ he caught
himself asking. ~It's hardly like me to get this angry...~

	"Rufus." The voice cut through his reverie, and he looked up, his head
jerking upwards like the predator scenting prey. It did not surprise him to
see Tseng standing in front of his desk; Tseng was, perhaps, the only person
who could have entered the room without alerting him. 

	"What do you want?" he asked, mildy irritably; the images that the
report conjured were still burning in his brain. 

	Tseng smirked, his lips twitching in what was not, precisely, amusement.
"Such a sweet greeting," he drawled, dropping into the chair. "What are you
doing up here on a Sunday?"

	Rufus's eyes narrowed. "I always work on Sunday. What are you doing in
my office on a Sunday?"

	With a shrug, Tseng replied, "I saw your ID was logged onto the
mainframe. It didn't take a genius to put two and two together. Catching up
on some paperwork?" His shrewd eyes were tracking across Rufus's desk,
flickering across the reports that Rufus knew damn well he could read upside
down; Rufus gathered them up, stacking them in a neat pile that was dwarfed
by the rest of the paperwork that swamped him.

	"Need to do it sometime," he said, casually, meeting Tseng's eyes. "Did
you have a particular reason for heading up here, or were you just bored?"

	Something flared in Tseng's eyes, quickly hidden. "I came to visit," he
said, softly. "If you would prefer I leave again, it could be arranged."

	Rufus sat back, running a hand through his hair. "No," he said, after a
moment. "No, it's all right. I'm not busy."

	"Now that's a miracle," Tseng said, sourly. "You've been overworking
again, Rufus. Get the hell out of this tower, do something besides sit here
and glare at your paperwork once in a while, and for Leviathan's sake do
something to relax. The world won't stop turning if you take a Sunday off."

	Rufus's eyes narrowed. "Seems to me," he said, deceptively casually,
"that you were bitching me out for my lack of responsibility just six months
ago. You can't have it both ways, Tseng."

	Tseng snorted and stood. "I don't know why I bother," he said, lowly, as
he pushed his chair back. "Go back to your overwork. Just remember that
you've got more friends than just one. If you ever deign to remember we
exist, you know."

	"So that's it." Rufus's eyes narrowed more as he looked up at Tseng.
"This is about me and Reeve, isn't it."

	One of Tseng's fists clenched, but his voice was even; perhaps too even.
"Is it?" he countered. "Are you saying that you and Reeve might constitute
something for me to be upset over?"

	"Dammit," Rufus snapped out, "if you want to know what's going on with
us, just go ahead and ask it. I'm sick and tired of you dancing around the
subject."

	Tseng arched one perfect eyebrow. "Around here," he said, evenly, "a man
doesn't need to ask. Just watch what you're doing, kid. I don't want to pick
you up when you fall."

	"I'll keep that in mind," Rufus gritted. "Piss off, Tseng."

	Tseng bowed, mockingly, and turned to go. "As the vice president
wishes," he said.

	Rufus's voice stopped him. "Oh. And you might want to think about the
fact that maybe I might just stop in and see you a little more often if I
didn't have to deal with the damn attitude every time I saw you."

	Tseng's shoulder muscles tensed, but he didn't turn. "What's that
supposed to mean?" he asked, his tone brittle.

	Standing, Rufus leaned forwards, hands on the desk. "Rumors go both
ways, Tseng," he said, sharply. "You've been a real ass lately. Is it just
that you can't stand the idea of me having another -- friend?"

	Still not turning around, Tseng just inclined his head. "Think what you
want," he said, coolly. "You always do."

	And with that, he was gone.

	Rufus watched the door after he left, sighing deeply. ~I handled that
badly. I always do ... gods, just when you thought things couldn't get any
worse.~ He looked back at the stack of police reports and court transcripts,
then back up to the door that Tseng had exited by, and sighed again.
~Interesting times indeed.~

				-- * --

	"Your mother was a whore from Sector Four!"

	"Yeah, and every time she saw you coming, she raised her rates!"

	The party was, Rufus mused as he hid a smile at the various
conversations, going quite well.

	It was composed of nearly all walks of Shinra life, all comfortably
using Reeve's rooftop pool, drinking his beer, and just generally making
nuisances of themselves. Even the Tarx had appeared, and they were,
generally, behaving. Of course, there had been a few moments, like when Rude
had decided that Reno /was/ going in the pool, and Reno's aquaphobia had
returned with full force, but little things like that were to be expected.
All in all, the party was going well. Except for the little matter that he
was out of beer.

	"Grab me one too?" Tseng called as he saw Rufus rise; Rufus nodded.
Tseng had been in an exceedingly good mood for the length of the party;
Rufus wasn't sure, but perhaps whatever had been bothering him had eased
during the strain of the long week.

	Overall, it was a good Saturday night. And the fridge was still
half-full. He smiled as he made his way through Reeve's living room, back to
the sliding glass door that led to the patio. That in and of itself was a
miracle; the way the assembled masses were going through the beer, it was a
wonder there was any left in the entire sector.

	Rufus paused, just as his hand touched the handle of the door. The two
beers dangled in his other hand, forgotten, as he watched... watched Reeve
standing on the edge of the diving board, laughing at something that Tseng
had said, the water from his hair dripping down over one shoulder and
sheeting over his chest. Watched the way he moved, smoothly, gracefully,
turning his back and rising up to his toes. Watched him in profile as he
frowned in concentration, and knew that for that one brief moment, the
outside world ceased to exist for him. Without even realizing it, Rufus
raised one hand to touch the glass, his fingertips resting lightly on the
smooth coldness as they wished to do to Reeve's warm flesh. 

	That one moment seemed frozen in time for him, the chill of the air
conditioner blowing over his damp skin, the muffled sound of laughter from
beyond the doors, as he watched Reeve's concentration, holding his breath in
anticipation of the moment that was about to come. His blood sang in his
ears, and the world seemed to narrow only to the connection between him and
the figure on the edge of the diving board. 

	And then Reeve's body exploded in motion, his knees bending, his back
arching, hurling him backwards. It was over in a second, as Reeve flipped in
midair, tucked and entered the water with only a hint of splash. Rufus
caught his breath and sagged against the glass, just a little, as Reeve
surfaced. He stood there for just a minute longer, wondering just what it
was that had caught him like that, and then pushed open the door and went
outside.

	Even the best of parties needed to end sooner or later, and this one was
no exception. By around two AM, the last of the sober people -- all three of
them -- had bidden their goodbyes, the last of the drunken people -- most of
them -- had departed in taxis or staggering off towards the subways, and,
finally, the Tarx had pried Reno out of the living room -- where he had
steadfastly refused to get anywhere near the pool again, choosing instead to
stay inside with the gaming system and one of those obnoxious games where
reflexes could mean the difference between life and death. "You guys go
ahead," Rufus called, from his spot on the patio, where he was unfolding one
of the garbage bags. "I'm just gonna stick around a bit longer and give
Reeve a hand with the cleanup."

	Tseng gave him a piercing glare, but -- amazingly enough -- didn't
comment as they departed. Reeve had already figured out the most efficient
way to handle the garbage; he simply raked one arm over one of the poolside
tables, sweeping everything into the garbage bag with a casual efficiency.
"Thanks," he said to Rufus, gratefully. "God, I feel like I'm back at the
frat house. I haven't seen this much alcohol -- or so many drunken assholes,
myself included -- in years."

	Rufus laughed, and carefully threaded his way around the edge of the
pool with an almost exaggerated caution. "But at least we were /cheerful/
drunken assholes. /I/ think," he said, picking up the pool net to fish a
lone Coors can out of the deep end, "that the next time, we should bring
more beer. It was when we ran out of the beer and started on the /rest/ of
the bar that we started having problems."

	Reeve just laughed as he watched Rufus reel in the One That Got Away,
and nodded. "Right. When it's just beer, you're too busy a, drinking and b,
peeing to bother with much of anything else."

	"...And hopefully not pissing /in/ the pool." Rufus grinned. 

	Reeve made some sort of odd snerking noise. "I'm going to have to get a
sign. 'Welcome to our Ool. Notice there is no P in it. Please keep it that
way.'"

	"Oh, Ramuh." Rufus burst out laughing, dropped the can back in the pool,
and fished it back out again. "It's been a while since I've been this drunk
and this cheerful. I don't even /feel/ drunk anymore. I think I've gone out
the other side. Gods, it's a gorgeous night out." 

	"Yeah." Reeve paused and nodded, glancing up into the night sky...then
with a sweep of an arm and a clatter of glass and aluminum, the last patio
table was clean. "Maybe I oughta wipe it off--nah, fuckit, it'll rain sooner
or later." He tied the bag and deposited it beside the patio door. "Think
that's about it," he sighed, glancing around the patio. 	
Rufus laughed, and dropped his bag next to the patio table. "Now we've just
gotta deal with the inside. How bad you think it's gonna be in there?" He
looked at the pool, briefly considering stripping off his tank and diving
back in, but deciding that he was just a little too drunk to do so safely.

	Reeve shrugged a little. "Can't be too bad," he replied, casting a
glance through the patio door. "Most of the drinkin' was going on out
here...might wanna trash the stale pretzels n' shit, though."

	"It looked pretty bad when I was in there before," Rufus confessed.
"There's wet towels n' shit everywhere." The barest hint of a slur crossed
his words, as he crossed the patio a bit unsteadily.

	"Feh. Just throw 'em in the bathtub for now, I guess," Reeve sighed,
picking his way back into the living room and opening another trash bag, The
ritual of scraping the tables was repeated, this time with the large plastic
bowls of pretzels and Chex mix and other assorted party fodder cluttering
the kitchen table. "Ugh..whose're these?" he wondered aloud, holding up a
pair of what appeared to be black bikini briefs by the waistband. "Ain't
mine, that's for damn sure..."

	Rufus couldn't help the flurry of laughter when he looked at the
underwear, beginning the towel collection. "Dunno," he says, the grin
spreading across his face. "I think you'd look cute in 'em."

	Reeve blushed a little at Rufus's comment, then composed himself. "Well,
if they're not yours and they're not mine, they're goin' in the trash. I
can't wear those damn things."

	Rufus grinned and made his way to rescue the offending undergarments. He
held them up at eye-level with two fingers, and studied them critically.
"They look to be about your size," he said, thoughtfully. "'F I asked
nicely, wouldja try 'em on?"

	"Well..." Reeve looked thoughtfully at the briefs, and he actually
appeared to be considering it. "I dunno...well...I guess, if you asked
/real/ nicely." 

	The answering grin that Rufus offered was /wicked/. "Nicely," he said,
tossing the briefs over onto the table. "Though honestly, y'seem more like
the boxers type..."

	Reeve laughed and nodded. "Yeah. Lot more comfortable." He eyed the
briefs a bit warily. "Can't deal with those. Feels like an all-day wedgie."

	"Eh." Rufus waved a hand. "They've got their advantages. Specially --"
He grinned again. "When someone's gonna be seeing you wearin' em." He picked
up the last towel that decorated the living room and tossed it on the pile
he'd been collecting, then bent to scoop them all up and stagger, slightly
imbalanced, in the vague direction of the bathroom.

	It took a moment for Reeve's brain to process that last comment, and
once it did, he stood there next to the table, red-faced as could be. He
shook it off and resumed cleaning, this time clearing plastic cups full of
whatever suicide juice Reno had thrown together off the coffee table. Rufus
returned just as Reeve was tossing the last cup in the garbage. "Aw, be
careful with that stuff, I think you could use it for drain cleaner," he
said, giving the room a quick once-over and heading over to the bar, where
bottles were scattered all over the place. "We gotta stop letting Reno
bartend."

	Carefully, Reeve picked up the partially full cups and toted them over
to the sink, where he poured their contents down the drain (and tried to
avoid inhaling any fumes). "No shit," he concurred. "Dunno what that was he
made, but it was good...once it burned the top layer of skin off your
tongue, anyway..."

	Rufus laughed and continued recapping bottles. "Well," he said, picking
one bottle up and squinting at it, holding it up to the light, "you're gonna
need to get more vodka, that's for sure. And you know, sooner or later, your
tongue develops scars."

	Reeve just burst out laughing. "I don't WANT scars on my tongue!" he
protested, chucking a stack of plastic cups in the trash.

	Rufus put the bottle back on the bar and grinned. "Yeah, well. You don't
really have much choice." He looked around again, and nodded. "I think
that's about as good as we can do for now. You can bring in the firehoses in
the morning." He dropped onto the couch, closing his eyes as his head swam
from the residual effects of the booze. "God. I drank too much."

	Reeve did likewise, flopping bonelessly onto the other end of the couch.
"You n' me both," he mumbled, dropping a hand over his eyes. "I'm just gonna
sit right here till the building quits doin' the hula," he announced,
tapping the arm of the couch with his free hand for emphasis.

	Laughing just a little, Rufus picked his feet up and dropped them on the
coffeetable. "You throw a good party," he said, leaning his head back and
closing his eyes. "And the pool is wonderful. We can't be this debauched at
the office gym. I'll get out of here and leave you be as soon as I work up
the energy to move."

	"Thanks." Reeve managed a bit of a smile. "Maybe y'better stay here," he
offered. "You shouldn't be driving. Or walking. Or operating any machinery
more complex than a spoon."

	Rufus cracked an eye open and let it drift vaguely towards Reeve. "Nah,
I'm not that faced, I could always call a cab. You sure?"

	Reeve nodded. "I don't mind," he replied with a little shrug. "The couch
folds out, so y'won't get a crick in your neck or anything."

	"I've had worse beds," Rufus said, a bit amused. "It's a rare weekend
when someone doesn't wind up  passed out on Tseng's couch, standing up,
lying face-first over the back of it. 'S usually Reno, but from time to
time, I've been the idiot." He stretched, gracefully. "I'm /so/ wide awake
right now that it's not funny, though. Good company and decent booze does it
to me every time."

	"I'll take that as a compliment," Reeve replied with a smile, letting
his hand drop from his eyes. "Ugh. Bright light. Light bad."

	Rufus nodded. "Absolutely. Compliment, hands down." He eyed the lamp at
the end of the couch warily for a second, and then made a long reach, just
barely able to reach it to turn it off. The moonlight filtered through the
patio doors, it being a rare cloudless night in Midgar. "There. That
better?"

	Reeve nodded, although his eyes were still closed. "Much." He let out a
soft chuckle. "God, I'm gonna be hurting in the morning."

	Rufus laughed, and managed to somehow find the strength to haul himself
off the couch. "After this past year or so, you really should know how to
avoid a hangover, Reeve," he said, amused. His voice trailed back from the
kitchen over the sound of a cabinet opening and closing and  the taps being
turned on. "I mean, we've given ya plenty of practice."

	"Yeah, I know, I know." Reeve laughed softly and rubbed his forehead.
"Every once in a while I still get one, though. Not near as bad as I used
to, but still...feh."

	"You," Rufus said, as he handed over the tumbler of water, "just need to
take better care of yourself." He was just drunk enough to add, "Or let
someone else do it for you."

	Reeve cracked one eye open and carefully took hold of the glass. "What,
you volunteering?" he asked with a laugh.

	"I sure as hell wind up doing it half the time, don't I?" Rufus asked,
rhetorically, and then laughed. "Big bad Rufus Shinra babying one of his
executives and making him drink his water before he goes to bed." He dropped
back on the couch, much closer to Reeve this time. "God, I'm sure that 90%
of the company would say that was so out of character."

	"Yes, Mommy," Reeve chuckled, knocking back half his water. "Can you
read me a story too?" He laughed a bit louder, probably more at his own
goofiness than anything else. "I appreciate it, though..."

	Rufus chuckled, and reached out, half-blindly in the darkness, to
lightly place his fingers on Reeve's forehead. "Story, probably not, but I
c'n chase the headache away before it gets its fingers too near ya." He
stroked his thumbs just over Reeve's eyebrows. "And if you /really/ want a
story, I'm sure we could play truth or dare..." He, too, is just a hint
/too/ goofy.

	Reeve sighed contentedly and leaned his head back against the back of
the couch. "Oh gawd," he groaned with a little laugh. "Truth or dare, huh?"

	The touch on Reeve's forehead was surprisingly gentle. "Yeah, doesn't it
just scream 'frat party' to you?" Rufus laughed. "They used to be scared of
asking me to play back in school. I'd do /anything/ they dared me. It took
the fun out of it."

	Reeve laughed a bit. "I can see that," he confessed, and he might have
been leaning into Rufus's touch a bit, might not have been.

	"Actually," Rufus corrected, letting his fingers drop reluctantly after
a few more moments of stroking, "y'can't see much of anything right now.
It's dark, y'know." He smirks.

	"Nahnahnah, I didn't mean 'see,' I meant '/see,/' y'know?" Reeve
snickered. He was babbling. He /knew/ he was babbling. He knew he probably
sounded like the world's grandest dumbass. He didn't really care, actually.
"I like it dark. Least when I'm faced."

	Rufus grinned, the moonlight glinting off his golden hair as he turned
his head to regard Reeve. "What else d'you like when you're faced?" he
asked, wickedly.

	Reeve turned his head to smile at Rufus and chuckled softly. "I dunno,"
he admitted with a little sheepish smile. "Hot wings. Sleep. Movies I
wouldn't touch with  a ten foot pole if I was sober." He shrugged a bit.
"How about you?"

	It took a minute for Rufus to even realize that he was speaking, but by
the time he did, it was too late. "Usually heading back to my suite with
whoever I spend the time getting drunk with and screwing until daw -- oh." 

	Under normal circumstances, Reeve probably would have been incited to
blush furiously by that comment. But in his drunken state, the only reaction
forthcoming was a laugh. "'S okay," he chuckled.

	Rufus eyed Reeve, and inwardly marveled at the lack of blush. "Maybe I
should get you faced more often. Y'don't blush as much."

	"Prob'ly will later, when it all registers," Reeve confessed with a
smile.

	Rufus laughed, and dropped his head back against the couch. "Then mebbe
I just won't let you sober up." Tentatively, casually, his hand brushed
against Reeve's knee, enough for it to have been accidental.

	Reeve flicked his eyes downward, catching Rufus's fingers with his gaze
as they brushed over his knee. His own hand crept out to touch Rufus's, just
barely brushing against his knuckles as it passed over.

	Rufus's hand stilled as Reeve touched it, and he picked his head up from
the couch to look at the other man. "I think I like you drunk," he
commented, barely a whisper, as he lifted Reeve's hand to his own lips.

	"Yeah? Reeve turned his head to catch Rufus's gaze with his own.  

	Rufus's eyes were twin flames shadowed by moonlight, and they were
trained on Reeve's face with an almost uncomfortable intensity. "Yeah."
Gently, he nuzzled Reeve's palm, drunk enough to forget his resolutions.

	Reeve sighed again, a bit more deeply, and stroked his thumb over
Rufus's lips with a feathery touch. "Thanks," he replied, his voice a bare
whisper.

	Rufus stilled the warning voices in the back of his mind without another
thought and leaned forward, claiming Reeve's lips with no further words. The
kiss began gently, quickly spiraling out of control as the last grasp on
Rufus's conscious mind gave into the force of habit and desire.

	For a moment, it seemed that Reeve wanted to back away from the kiss;
his body tensed momentarily at the contact. Then it relaxed slowly, and he
allowed his lips to part just a bit against Rufus's.

	The kiss seemed to last forever, and at the same time be over all too
quickly. Rufus pulled back ever so slightly and just /looked/ at Reeve, his
eyes seeming to seek an answer. Reeve's eyes were locked with Rufus's; no
amount of effort he put forth could have torn them away. He was sure Rufus
could see right into his soul with those icy blue eyes, and he was afraid of
what Rufus might find there... but whatever he found there, it seemed to
answer a question, and Rufus smiled, sweetly. With no further word, he took
both of Reeve's hands in his own, lifting them to either side of his face
and holding them there with his own. Turning his head ever so slightly, he
nipped at one of Reeve's palms, still not taking his eyes from Reeve's. The
thinnest line of self-control that he held was almost palpable. 

	With a soft sigh, Reeve shut his eyes and stroked his thumbs over Rufus's
cheekbones, as if committing the exquisite lines of the other's face to
memory--and maybe he was. Rufus whispered, barely audibly, "Don't be scared
of me, Reeve. There's nothing wrong with this..." Hesitantly, he reached out
and stroked Reeve's face, letting his hands trail down to the other's
shoulders.

	"I know," Reeve whispered back, just as softly, and he /wanted/ to
believe that...he shivered as Rufus's hands slid down his cheeks, down his
neck, to his shoulders, and a soft moan slipped past his lips.

	"Touch me," Rufus invited, his whisper growing just a bit ragged. "Touch
me like I'm touching you..." And indeed, his hands trailed just a bit lower,
skimming Reeve's collarbone and running down his chest.

	With a slight hesitation, Reeve did as was asked of him; his fingertips
trailed down Rufus's neck to rest on his shoulders, his touch tentative and
whispery. His thumbs traced the line of Rufus's collar, just barely slipping
under the fabric to slide over soft skin.

	Rufus took a deep breath, reining in the last bits of his self-control
/hard/ as he leaned into Reeve's touch. His own hands paused as they reached
Reeve's stomach, and then tentatively skimmed downward a little further,
curving around to brush Reeve's hips ever so lightly.

	Reeve let out another little moan, and he jumped slightly at the brush
of Rufus's hands over his hips. Carefully, gingerly, he let his own hands
slide down from Rufus's shoulders and over his chest, tracing the lines of
Rufus's muscles through the thin fabric.

	Hesitantly, still encouraged by the soft sound from Reeve's lips and the
touch that was even now threatening to burn him, Rufus slid his hands around
the sides of Reeve's hips and along his thighs, down to his knees ... and
then back up, this time not altering their course. The very tips of his
fingers crept beneath the swim trunks, not daring to go further. Another
small, soft sound crept forth from Reeve's throat, and his hands slipped
around Rufus's waist to rest at the small of the other man's back. His head
drooped forward a bit, forehead resting gently on Rufus's shoulder. 

	~You. Will. Go. Slowly.~ Rufus turned his head to nuzzle Reeve's hair,
gently, and then nipped at the very edge of his earlobe. His hands slid up
underneath the loose trunks, skimming along the sensitive curves of thigh
and trunk, just the faintest of coaxing touches. ~You will. You shouldn't
even be doing this...~

	Reeve sighed softly, his fingers slipping under the hem of Rufus's
T-shirt and cautiously exploring the skin under it. As Rufus's hands slid
further up his thighs, his body began to tremble just a bit, though whether
from fear or excitement or both was uncertain. Rufus's hands just rested on
Reeve's skin, and his head dropped down again, his breathing growing ragged
as he fought to keep from pushing Reeve backwards on the couch and stripping
off those few threads that stood between them. 

	Wordlessly, he shifted, giving Reeve's hands a clear path to explore, to
test.

	Reeve shifted a little as well, pulling his feet up onto the couch and
sitting cross-legged there, facing Rufus completely. He lifted his head from
Rufus's shoulder and brushed his lips once against the other man's, softly,
almost timidly. Rufus hesitated for a second, and then gave in, with a soft
groan that spoke of patience and need all rolled into one. His lips parted
as he took control of the kiss, imparting a lazy and wild sensuality to it;
his fingers flexed on Reeve's thighs, fingertips digging in just a bit and
then retracting like a cat's claws. One of Reeve's hands slipped out from
under the soft fabric of Rufus's T-shirt and whispered up over his back to
rest on the back of his neck; the other stayed under the T-shirt, the tip of
one finger carefully slipping under the waistband of Rufus's trunks.

	Again, Rufus's fingers flexed, one hand slipping back underneath Reeve's
shorts to cup the smooth skin of his hip. The other remained loose, thumb
brushing over that soft crease between leg and body -- once, twice, again.
He broke off the kiss, his eyes hot and hungry, and just looked at Reeve for
half an instant before trailing little demanding kisses along Reeve's
jawline, down his throat. Go ahead and touch, he seemed to be saying. Go
ahead and taste.

	Another soft, wordless moan escaped Reeve's throat; his hand tightened a
little on the back of Rufus's neck. His other hand slid out from under the
T-shirt to skim over Rufus's hip, the tips of his fingers carefully tracing
the lines and curves of the other's body. Gently, insistently, Rufus's
tongue flicked out to taste the hollow of Reeve's throat, the scent of his
skin. Softly -- almost as if he was holding his breath -- his thumb brushed
lightly over the fabric of the swim trunks, skimming with a feather-touch
over the evidence of Reeve's arousal.

	Reeve jumped a bit and drew in a sharp gasp at the contact, his hands
tightening once more. After a second his body relaxed, slightly, although
his breathing was still quick and ragged and his hands trembled against
Rufus's skin. "Oh...oh god..." 

	Relentlessly, Rufus nipped at the line of Reeve's jaw, then claimed his
mouth again, the kiss holding a thousand promises. His thumb stroked Reeve
with a casual sort of intensity, the type of motion that would not take no
for an answer, as his other hand slid up Reeve's chest to cup his cheek.
Reeve whimpered softly against Rufus's mouth, the hand at the back of
Rufus's neck sliding down his back to join the other. ~no,~ a soft voice
whispered in his mind. ~Stop it....no, don't stop...I want this...no I
don't...~

	Rufus's palm slid over Reeve's upper thigh, finally running directly
between his legs -- gently, then a little more roughly, coaxingly. His
tongue teased at Reeve's lips, inviting entrance, as his other hand tangled
demanadingly in Reeve's hair. Beneath Reeve's fingers, a small muscle jumped
crazily in counterpoint to Rufus's heartbeat.

	Reeve's lips parted as well, just a little, and the tip of his tongue
slipped past them to flick softly against Rufus's. His body arched a bit,
his hips rocking forward against Rufus's touch even as the small, soft voice
within him protested.

	Gently, Rufus's fingers closed around him, even as the other hand tipped
Reeve's head up a little further so that the kiss could claim him deeper.
That soft, hesitant touch of Reeve's tongue seemed to spark something deep
within, and the barest hint of self-control eroded further as Rufus pressed
a little harder...

	Reeve pulled back then, though it seemed that he did so almost
reluctantly. "I--I can't," he stammered out in a bare whisper, his breath
still quick and ragged. "I'm sorry..I just can't yet..."

	Rufus just looked at him, for a long minute, his chest heaving in an
attempt to still his raging heartbeat. With a muttered oath, he turned away
from Reeve, an expression of disgust crossing his face. "No. Don't
apologize. I shouldn't have --" He broke off again, and took a deep breath,
his shoulders tensing.

	Gently, Reeve reached up and laid a hand on Rufus's shoulder. "It's
okay." He drew a sigh and rubbed his eyes with his free hand. "It -- it felt
good, and I /wanted/ to keep going, but..." He shook his head, letting his
hand fall from his eyes to the cushion. "I just -- I need a little more
time, okay?"

	"No, it's okay," Rufus answered, dully, and then with a small, violent
motion -- barely suppressed annoyance, more at himself than anything else --
stood and paced over to the bar, rooting around until he found one bottle of
Scotch that hadn't been touched by the partygoers. "If you were smart," he
said, tone flat, "you would walk away right now. Before it's too late."

	"Why?" Reeve didn't turn his head, didn't watch Rufus move to the bar,
just sat there on the couch trying to get hold of himself. "Why should I?"

	Rufus slammed the bottle of scotch down on the bar with a little more
force than was necessary, and then just /stood/ there, for a long moment,
his hands gripping the edges of it and his head bowed. "Because if you stay,
sooner or later I'll destroy you. Like I destroy everything I touch." He
took a deep breath, his shoulders heaving. "If you had the sense that God
gave a wet paper bag, you'd throw me right out of here this minute, and you
wouldn't let me back. Because no matter what, I'm never going to quit
pushing you. I never do. And the more I push, the better the chance that
you're going to get burned."

	For one, crazy second, the words lingered on Reeve's lips: ~I don't
care.~ But he choked them back, the old fear overriding them, and just
dropped his head into his hands. After a long moment, he stood up and padded
over to the bar, reaching out as if to lay a hand on Rufus's arm...then,
apparently thinking better of it, he withdrew and stepped back, in the
direction of the bedroom. "There's...uh, a blanket under one of the cushions
on the couch...I'm gonna go to bed, so..."

	"Yeah." Rufus didn't look at him. "I'm probably going to walk home in a
little bit. Sleep well."

	Again, Reeve's hand rose, as if to reach out. ~Don't go,~ he thought.
~Don't --~ But all he said was "Be careful," before retreating to the
sanctuary of the bedroom. Once there, he shucked off his trunks and threw
them in the corner, pulling on a pair of pajama bottoms and then just
dropping down on the side of the bed.

	~What the hell was that?~ he thought, fighting back the waves of
confusion and frustrated, fledgeling desire. ~God, God, what am I doing?
What is he doing? Why can't I just turn around and walk away like he says I
should?~ Because he knew the truth of Rufus's words; he knew that Rufus,
whether from pride or stubbornness, would never truly be able to let him be.
He did want Rufus; that much was true, and painful to admit. But -- not this
quickly. Not this soon --

	Outside, a soft splash echoed across the rooftop, as Rufus threw
himself, naked and aroused, into the pool. ~Idiot. Asshole. The closest
friend you've had in years, and you can't stop yourself from trying to get
into his pants. Pathetic. Just fucking pathetic.~

	He knew that sleep would be a long time coming. For both of them.
Perhaps for a very long time.