"Shoot already," Reno said, chalking the end of his cue and eyeing Rude across the pool table. Rude was unthreatened, taking his time rolling the poolballs in the frame, lining up the tip just so on the worn mark on the green felt. Reno rolled his eyes, jogging the chalk in his hand in a little pouf of blue dust, and went to inspect the jukebox in the corner.

The Turks' lounge was not the best equipped or maintained of the recreational areas in the ShinRa building, but it was definitely the envy of many a salaryman rattling his pockets for a 50 gil latte out of one of the company vending machines. For one thing, the Turks' vending machine had beer and cigarettes, and probably the only edible snacks in the entire building. The pool table was old, one that President ShinRa had retired from his executive study when it got too faded to be respectable. He had certainly never used it for its intended purpose; although what exactly it had been used for was probably not wise to speculate. At any rate, it formed the main centerpiece of the room, along with some mildly disreputable leather couches, and a corner bar. The jukebox had been sitting in a corner of the room since long before the current regime of Turks had come to be, but had never worked until Reno broke into it one night on late shift and took it apart and then put it back together again. There were a few bits left over when he finished, but at least it played now, if only the vintage disks Rude had found piled in a box in a forgotten storage room.

"Whaddya want?" Reno asked, leaning both hands on the twinkling neon frame and looking over his shoulder at Rude, who had just arranged the poolballs to his satisfaction.

Rude shrugged.

Reno flipped through the display a few times, and finally settled on some holiday jazz. "Something for the season, right? I think you an' me are the only ones working." Reno rested his pool cue across his shoulders and looked past Rude to the wide glass windows, at the snow falling softly down through the darkness, tinged faintly green from Midgar's reactor-glow. "I don't care, though. It's getting nasty out there. I'm glad I don't hafta go anyplace."

Rude made a noncommittal noise, choosing a cue out of the rack to break with. "You don't like champagne anyway." He hefted his weapon of choice, sighting down it. "Not going to see your folks this week?"

"Later," Reno said, watching the snow. "Phoenix has to work this week, same as me, and Diego's doing overtime with New Year's at the 'Bee." Reno raised his eyebrows as the cue shot forward in Rude's hands, scattering the colored balls like Christmas ornaments. "Nice."

Rude tilted up his sunglasses. "Hm."

Reno circled the table a few times, hands in his pockets and cue cradled in the curve of his elbow like an outsized version of his nightstick. "Real nice." He bent over at one corner and twiddled his cue lazily; two striped balls followed Rude's into side and corner pockets.

"I gotta stop making this easy on you." Rude said.

Reno chuckled. "Nah. Don't do that. You wanna drink?"

Rude was sizing up his next shot. "Sure."

Reno wanted dirty martinis, but the olives in the minifridge had been drained dry. "Lemon drops?"

Poolballs cracked, Rude had just taken his turn. "Yeah."

Reno brought the olives over anyway, and a mismatched pair of shot glasses from two different upper-level strip clubs. He rimmed the glasses with sugar, and eyed the table. "Nice mess you made for me."

Rude might have smiled, clinking his glass with Reno's and tossing back the contents. Reno set the frozen bottle down on the edge of the pool table, and rubbed his hands to warm them. In the distance down the hall the elevator dinged. In the way that voices carried further in an empty building, the two Turks could clearly hear the last guard rotation for the night, and when the silence returned it was heavier. The hallway switched to evening light, and the jukebox seemed to glow brighter by comparison. The snowstorm took advantage of the silence to whistle loudly between the skyscrapers.

"Guess it's just you and me." Reno said, as the building settled comfortably down for the winter night. "Tseng and Rufus won't be back for hours."

"We'll be clocked out long before then." Rude refilled the two shotglasses and Reno popped down a few olives, watching the swirls of snow skimming over the window. "Your turn."

Reno remembered the game. "Oh, Right." Rude hadn't sunk any balls, but he hadn't made it easy for Reno to do so, either. The younger Turk had to sprawl rather ungracefully across the table with his ass in the air, and even then his intended shot glanced against the edge of the pocket and spun away. "Damn," he said, without heat, and took the opportunity to polish off his second drink.

Rude palmed the olive lid shut, tilting his glasses up and reaching for his cue.

"You think it'll pile up enough to slow the trains?" Reno said, perching on a corner of the table. The snow was falling harder, and tiny drifts were forming in the corner of the window. Rude didn't answer, and Reno finally turned, thinking Rude was pondering his next shot. Rude's sunglasses were not facing the window, or the table, but watching Reno, Rude's eyes dimly visible but inscrutable beyond the tinted lenses. The jukebox scraped to a stop and the machinery hummed, flipping to the next selection.

"What?" Reno said, shifting his weight, a small wave of heat tickling the back of his neck and making him reach up to twitch his ponytail restlessly.

Rude rolled his cue against his palm and stepped over to take his next shot, leaning past Reno so that their shoulders brushed. Reno stared at Rude, at the line of his jaw and the thick black and silver hoops in his earlobe, and the way the earpiece of his sunglasses pressed slightly against his temple. He had discarded his suit jacket almost as long ago as Reno had, and under the thin linen of his shirt Reno could see the thick planes of his shoulder muscles, the precise pleats in the back of his pants. Faint darker ink shapes shadowed the skin of Rude's back under the fabric, but only one blue coil of his Leviathan tattoo was clearly visible as it curled up the back of his neck.

The alcohol made a small, belated explosion in Reno's stomach, warmth rippling over his skin. Rude sank two balls and Reno didn't notice, looking at the clumps of sugar on the edge of the shotglass and thinking about the three floors, two halls, and one security check between the two of them and anybody else in the building.

"Yours," Rude said, straightening and tugging at his tie.

"Yeah," Reno said. His voice was hoarse; he refilled his glass and drank it, licking lemon vodka and sugar off his lips, and picked up his forgotten cue.

Later, he would try to reason with himself, that there really wasn't any other play he could have made in the game. Any other angle would have sunk no balls or the wrong ones, and the play from the corner would have been an obvious scratch. It might even be said that Rude could have moved out of the way, or at least stepped back.

Reno saw his shot, and he took it. It was how he played the game, and how he played his life. No opportunities missed, no punches pulled. That he had to do it with his thigh wedged up between Rude's legs and both arms around the other Turk was just a matter of providence.

The one thing that ever amazed him about it was that he had actually sunk the ball he meant to sink.

Not that it mattered, because neither one of them ever finished the game.

Rude caught Reno's shoulders before Reno could stand back up again, and their mouths were together before Reno even realized that Rude had taken off his sunglasses. There was no romantic pause of worlds sliding together, no staring into each other's eyes, just hot sugar lemon and alcohol, tangled tongues and Reno's heart pounding in his ears.

Reno's hands fisted in the back of Rude's shirt, his pool cue rattling noisily to the floor, forgotten. He crushed himself against Rude's chest, a small noise in his throat at the motion of Rude's lips against his own. The world spun upside down and Reno was on his back on the pool table, Rude's weight bearing him down, his goatee ticklish-soft on Reno's neck as he mouthed kisses in the open collar of Reno's shirt.

"Unngod," Reno managed, his fingers finding the knot of Rude's tie and pulling it loose, the strip of silk fluttering free. His fingers danced down the front of Rude's shirt with the ease of long practice undoing other men's buttons, but Rude's hand caught his before it could stray too far. Reno blinked in mild confusion, not expecting to be stopped.

"What?"

Rude laughed, just a low soft sound against Reno's ear, and both of Reno's wrists were pinned neatly above his head on the green felt pool table, Rude holding him down one handed. Reno swallowed. Rude was looking at him as though trying to decide which bones to break and still keep his target talking, his mismatched eyes intent on the Turk underneath him. His shirt hung open from Reno's attention, and Reno could see heavy silver rings weighing down his nipples. Reno's fingers twitched involuntarily, but Rude's grip held firm, exerting slight warning pressure, shaking his head in a mild no.

With his free hand he loosed the two buttons of Reno's shirt that were actually fastened, fabric falling open. His mouth was warm down Reno's bare chest, soft over the shadows of his ribcage, finding old bullet scars and the hard knots of Reno's nipples. Rude drew one between his teeth and Reno hissed as Rude undid the fly of Reno's pants and slid waiting heat into his hand.

Reno moaned out loud as Rude's fingers closed on his aching cock, arm muscles straining against being held down. "Ngod...Rude..." Reno tossed his head back, sunglasses falling off his hair and clattering on the pool table, hips moving upward into Rude's grasp. Outside the wind made a restless noise against the glass and Reno echoed it.

"Reno," Rude said, and Reno opened his eyes, taking a moment to focus on his partner's face.

"Wha-- what is it?"

Rude glanced away, as if that would mean he wasn't still holding Reno pinned in two places, thumb tracing swollen hot skin. "I don't want to hurt you."

Reno took a minute to process, most of his mind occupied with the pressure between his legs. He twitched his fingers in vain at his discarded coat on the sofa. "Left pocket."

Rude glanced at the other Turk's jacket some distance away, and the wrists under his hand, considering. He slid his hand out of the open front of Reno's pants, and groped under the table for Reno's nightstick.

Reno's eyes widened slightly as his weapon came into view. "Um--" he began, but Rude only wrapped the security strap on the handle twice around Reno's wrists, and wedged the nightstick in the pool table pocket above his head, leaving him effectively staked to the table. Cold air hit Reno's bare skin as Rude vanished. Reno tried to follow him with his eyes but failed, falling back on the felt and thinking that now would be a really bad time for Rude to go get the guys at the security desk two floors down, and have one hell of a laugh.

"Shouldn't be surprised," Rude said. Reno turned his head but could only see Rude's elbow and hear the rustle of fabric, the sound of his jacket being picked up and dropped again.

"Habit," Reno said, trying to shrug but unable to. He would usually have engaged in casual sexy banter at this point but failed, instead watching Rude's shadow blocking out the fluorescent light overhead. Rough fingertips brushed Reno's face, tracing over the slightly raised scars and his parted lips. Reno relaxed, his mouth opening, tasting sugar and Rude's skin. Rude pulled his hand away, wet fingertips moving over Reno's throat and the hollow of his collarbone.

Rude's weight shifted and the table creaked, Reno felt his pants sliding down over his thighs. "C'mon," he whispered, impatient now, and the silver hardware of his nightstick jangled as he jerked his wrists restlessly. "C'mon, Rude, I've only been waiting for years, now."

Rude was not to be hurried, the cloth of his open shirt and pants smooth and warm against Reno's bare skin. Rude was looking down at Reno, sprawled and tied to the pool table, his breath coming too fast. "Reno?"

Reno grinned, eager. "Yeah. It's just me, Rude."

Rude leaned down, his cheek rough against Reno's scar. "Yeah."

Reno tilted his head, kissed the hot silver of Rude's earring, the vulnerable spot of his temple. "...Do it."

Rude was still a moment longer, and then his hands were on the back of Reno's knees, his slick heat hard against Reno. It was slow, Reno knew he would be, and let out his breath in one careful motion as Rude brought his weight down and forced Reno open.

Reno groaned and the clasp of his nightstick strap rattled as Rude pushed into him, more than he expected and everything he wanted. "Rude--" he managed, and heard his partner's breath catch. Rude's grip shifted and his hips moved, the pool table squeaked mild protest. "That's it," Reno said, arching back, encouraging, stretched full and wanting more. "C'mon, c'mon baby...nnn it's so good..."

Rude needed little urging, grasping Reno's hips and lifting him off the table, driving into him like the blizzard outside until Reno's thigh muscles shivered in his hands. Reno had been fucked before, and often enough to think casually of it before now. But Rude was different in a way that Reno had always hoped for and almost feared, and his own honesty made an honest lover out of Reno. The noises he made were harsh and unpracticed, and the clasp of his nightstick snapped as he jerked his hands free. He wrapped his arms around Rude's shoulders. Rude folded his hand around him and Reno's nails scraped over Rude's tattoo, his body shuddering.

"Wait--" he said, not sure why, only knowing that it was coming and for once he wasn't ready for it, wasn't braced to handle the flood.

"Think we've both waited enough," Rude answered, his breath coming hard, and even though Reno agreed, he couldn't say so. All he could do was come like he didn't know what it felt like, release rushing along his body, spilling hot and helpless into Rude's hands.

He opened his eyes only just in time to see the flicker of emotion cross Rude's face before the other man growled, burying his face in Reno's neck as he came.

"...Well," Reno said, several minutes later when neither one of them had moved. "Is it my shot?"

Rude lifted his head, looking at Reno, and at the pool table. The remaining poolballs were scattered wildly on the table, the eight ball was on the floor and the cueball in the corner left pocket. He laughed into Reno's hands, and shook his head.

"Our shift was over twenty minutes ago."

Really?" Reno brightened, sitting up with the smallest of winces and groping in the nearest table pocket for his sunglasses. He found them and arranged them properly on top of his spiky hair. "Guess we're off then, huh?"

Rude unfolded the earpieces on his own shades, slipping them on and proceeding to button his shirt. The jukebox clicked and whirred into silence, and suddenly the snowstorm was loud on the glass, cold and threatening. Reno looked towards the invisible sky and the blur of snowflakes, and shivered.

"My place is closer," Rude said, and Reno swiveled his head around, eyebrows high and surprised.

"I've been your partner for three years now, and I don't think I even know where your place is."

Rude shrugged. "Yeah." He knelt and scooped up the twist of Reno's pants, draping them on the table. "You don't have to come."

"Oh yeah I do." Reno caught Rude's wrist, tugging him closer, tilting his sharp face to Rude's carefully guarded one. "You're not getting away that easy."

Rude might have smiled, but Reno's lips brushed it away. He slipped out of Rude's hands and into his pants, swinging around the pool table to snatch his jacket off the sofa, wrenching his nightstick free of the pool table one-handed. He caught up to Rude's shadow as the other Turk switched the light off, leaving the jukebox in its warm puddle of gold light, and the snowstorm beyond the glass.