The executive men's room was empty, except for one lone figure standing with his back against the wall, trying to forget what had just happened to him.
Reeve shrugged his jacket off and let it fall onto the floor. His hands were shaking too badly to maneuver it onto the peg on the wall. Forget it. Forget everything. /Oh God I wish I could.../
He covered his eyes with one trembling hand, shutting out the glare of the fluorescents, wishing he could shut out the memory of the last hour's events so easily.
--"Oh, spare me. You know you like it..."--
God. He could still smell her goddamn cheap perfume clinging to his shirt, and the smell was almost enough to trigger his gag reflex right then and there. Reeve was deathly afraid to look in the mirror; he was sure he was going to see her lipstick smeared on his collar...even worse, on his ear or-- oh shit, he didn't even want to think about where else her lipsick might have rubbed off.
--"Wh--what are you doing!?"
She fixed him with a stare that sent waves of cold straight into his stomach. "Getting rid of the evidence, of course."--
Yes, he was going to have to get very drunk tonight. Reeve wasn't much of a drinker, but right now, he was planning on passing out by sunset. And that laugh. God, he'd thought it was bad before. Now just thinking about it was almost driving him insane.
--"Kyahahaha..."--
/No..it didn't happen...I'm going to wake up soon and realize that this was all a very, very bad dream./ Reeve wanted to believe that. But he knew it -had- happened. The lingering traces of Scarlet's sickly-sweet perfume still clinging to him would not let him forget.
************
Old Man Shinra's tone had been kind, but his eyes had been anything but. "Reeve...you've been working too hard. Take a few days off."
/Yeah, so you can blow up Sector 7 without me in the way./ "Yes sir...I've got some things to finish up here first, though."
"Of course." Shinra sat back down in his chair. "You're dismissed."
Reeve turned and slowly began to walk away. Just as he reached the door, he heard his name called again. He faced the President once more. "Yes?"
"I know what you're thinking," Shinra began, and this time he made no effort to mask the contempt in his voice. "You are not to make any attempt to warn anyone. If I see so much as an ant colony picking up and moving to another sector, you can consider yourself unemployed or worse, depending on what sort of mood I'm in when I find out about it. The people have to think this was AVALANCHE's doing. Do you understand?"
"But--"
"Simple yes/no question, Reeve. Do we understand each other?"
Reeve opened his mouth to argue the point further, and then he closed it again. "Yes sir." Feeling about an inch tall, he padded out of the President's office and down the hall toward his own. Halfway there he changed his mind and headed for the elevator. His mind was racing in a million directions at once; a quick couple of laps in the pool was just what he needed to calm down.
With a ding and a hiss, the elevator doors opened onto the 64th floor of Shinra Tower, which housed the building's well-equipped fitness center. Lovely Shinra, always going out of its way to take care of its employees but couldn't give a damn about anyone else...Reeve couldn't help but feel a bit guilty about living the way he did when the poor folks in the slums were knifing each other in the back just to get enough to eat. Never mind the fact that he lived like a pauper compared to the rest of the Shinra brass; while Scarlet and Heidegger were lounging in their mansions whipping their servants, Reeve lived in an apartment and foraged for himself. Okay, so it was a penthouse apartment, and his freezer was full of steak and such. Still, he found some comfort in the knowledge that he wasn't letting his success go to his head.
He changed into his trunks, carefully inspecting the drawstring. Several weeks before, some smartass had partially severed that of his old pair; he'd put them on, dove into the pool, come to the surface, and watched in horror as his trunks floated lazily up to the surface some twelve feet behind him. Thankfully, nobody had tampered with it this time.
Reeve stepped up to the edge of the pool and propelled himself into the water, unaware that two pairs of eyes were watching him, both of them sweeping over the graceful curve of his body as it sliced through the water. Neither was aware of the other's presence, and although both wanted the same thing, they wanted it for very different reasons, and in very different ways.
***************
Reeve's lunch had arrived in his absence, and he sat down at his desk to halfheartedly pick at it. He couldn't just sit at home and do nothing while all those people died. But if the old man found out...forget Shinra. He didn't care about the consequences. He had friends in Sector 7, for God's sake.
The intercom on his desk buzzed, and he prodded the button. "Yes?"
"Hey. I heard what the old man said to you in there."
"Shit." Reeve laughed weakly. "Tseng, do you ever get tired of spying on him?"
"Nope. Once in a while something interesting happens. I remember one time...ah, it was priceless. Something to do with Scarlet, a few items from the produce department and a dog leash--"
"Oh, gross!" Reeve groaned. "Don't even put that picture in my head! Did you need something from me?"
"Nah. Just checking on you."
"Ah, I get it. It's time for my weekly all-work-and-no-play- et cetera lecture, isn't it?"
"I wasn't going to do it, but if you insist--"
Reeve rolled his eyes and munched on a wing, making a little "blah blah blah" gesture with his free hand as Tseng gave him the usual spiel...
"How many hours have you clocked this week?"
"I dunno. I guess about sixty."
"Bzzt. Try seventy-eight. And don't give me that line of crap about you spending at least ten of them in the gym. When's the last time you ate something that didn't come in a styrofoam carton from Choco Bob's?"
Sigh. "Breakfast this morning, so nyah."
"The danish off the cart does not count, so nyah yourself. I hope to God you're at least taking some vitamins or something."
"Yes, Mommy." Reeve rolled his eyes again. "Look, you, I'll have you know I quit smoking." /Game.../
Shocked silence. "No shit."
"I shit you not. Three days, thank you very much." /Set.../
"Pfft. That's what you said last time."
"...and if I remember correctly, you were sucking on a cancer stick this very morning." More silence. /Match! Ha!/
"Well..." Tseng muttered, "-I- smoke cloves. I do not inhale."
"Yeah...." /D'oh! Need a snappy comeback.../ "And Scarlet doesn't swallow."
"Oh MY God, I can't BELIEVE you said that!" Tseng exclaimed, bursting into laughter. "You've been talking to Reno, haven't you, you naughty boy? Oh, speaking of Harlot I mean Scarlet, you are not going to believe what she tried to pull on some poor kid from the mail room today."
Reeve raised an eyebrow. "Try me."
"Well, to protect your tender ears I'll leave out the juicy parts...but basically she lured the poor little guy up to her office, everything went real quiet for a while...and then the kid runs out screaming 'SHE BIT ME!'"
"Ugh!" Reeve cringed. "Jeez, I hope her shots are up to date."
"Are you kidding? She doesn't need shots. All the diseases she probably has are too busy fighting each other to attack her!"
"Ewww!" Reeve laughed, almost sending a mostly nude wing bone shooting across his desk. "That was classic," he finally managed to wheeze. "Can I use that one?"
"Depends. You'll have to ask Rude. It's his."
"Always the one you least suspect..." Reeve wiped his streaming eyes, still snickering. "Listen, I'd love to sit here all day and talk trash about the Queen Bitch of Shinra Incorporated, but I have a pile of work here I have to finish."
There was a long pause. "Reeve?"
"Yeah."
"You'd better do what he said and go home."
Reeve sighed again. "Tseng, please stop nagging me, okay?"
"Reeve, I'm not trying to be a pain in the ass. You're my friend, and sometimes I worry about you. That's all. And I've got a feeling things are about to get really nasty around here. Listen, I gotta go. Talk to you later."
"Later," Reeve echoed, nibbling on a chicken wing and staring at his phone.
He had to call someone. Even if it was only one person. He didn't care about losing his job; he sure as hell didn't want to work for a company that did this kind of shit to innocent people. But if he wasn't there to keep an eye out for them...maybe there was a way. Maybe...he glanced at the receipt taped to the carton his lunch sat in. "Choco Bob's Barbecue," it proclaimed, "hottest wings in Midgar." Choco Bob's was located in Sector 7. Yes...it would work. Reeve picked up his phone and dialed the number on the receipt, gnawing absently on a wing bone held between the first two fingers of his left hand as he waited for someone to pick up. He had picked the wrong week to stop smoking, that was for sure.
"Choco Bob's Barbecue, if it's not there in thirty minutes or less you shoulda given us better directions. Help ya?"
"Hi, it's Reeve at Shinra Tower again. Can you shoot me over another wing platter?"
The nameless fast-food jockey chuckled. "Couldn't get enough, huh?" Reeve thought he heard a soft click on the line, but he didn't think much of it.
"That's right," Reeve replied, trying to sound normal. "Listen, I need you to bring them right up to my office. I--"
Click.
"Hello?" Reeve scowled at the phone. Cut off. "Shit." He hung up briefly, then picked up the receiver again and found nothing but silence. No dial tone. No nothing.
He dropped the phone back on the hook. That had not been an accidental disconnection. Someone had been listening. /Tseng was right! Get out of here right now!/ his mind screamed...but he just couldn't make himself get out of his chair. He stared numbly at the phone, trying to convince himself that the usual telecom gremlins were at work and that the line would be back up in a few minutes...but he knew better.
The door to his office opened without so much as a knock, and in stepped Scarlet. Reeve knew she didn't care too much for him, and that didn't exactly depress him. Actually, he considered himself fortunate. Tseng had told him plenty of stories about the wench coming on to him, and just hearing about it second-hand was enough to make Reeve's skin crawl.
She locked the door behind her as she sauntered in. "Well, well, well." There was a bemused smirk on Scarlet's face that Reeve didn't like one bit. "That was cute. I'll have to give you full points for originality."
Ah, that explained the odd little "click" he'd heard on the line. The bitch had tapped his phone. "I don't know what you're talking about. I was just ordering some more food--"
"Cut the crap, Reeve. You can't even eat ONE order of those things. You always end up taking the leftovers home with you." Scarlet laughed softly. "You know, anyone else would have missed that. But not me." She began to walk slowly toward his desk. "No, I've been watching you lately. Watching you very, very closely. Waiting for you to do something this stupid."
Reeve rolled his eyes. "So you could do what? Go tattle to the old man and get me sacked? Sorry, Scarlet, but I find I just don't give a damn about that right now."
Scarlet parked her ass on the corner of Reeve's desk and sighed. "Hmm. Your wing boy's place is in Sector 7. AVALANCHE's headquarters are in Sector 7. You know, it wouldn't be too hard to find some teensy little connection between the two and pad it a little. Even something like little Marlene Wallace going in there to plunk some change in the video games..." She crossed her legs slowly. "And guess what? If someone were to let Old Man Shinra in on your little plot, we wouldn't just be talking about insubordination anymore. We'd be talking treason. Hence, we'd also be talking firing squad. Are you catching my drift, handsome?"
/Shit./ She had a point. As much as Reeve hated to admit it, she was absolutely right. "And I suppose you're about to go and do just that?"
Scarlet levelled her eyes at him; Reeve felt as if they were drilling right through his heart. /Get out of here!/ his mind screamed at him again, and this time his body managed to react to the order. He scrambled out of his chair, nearly stumbling over one of its legs trying to get to the door. As he laid his hand on the knob, a soft and very recognizable "click" came from behind him. He turned around slowly, knowing that he would find himself looking down the barrel of a loaded pistol, knowing Scarlet's eyes would still be burning into him...knowing that he was in deep shit. "Silly me," he said. "I should have known you'd want to do me in yourself."
"Do what I say and I'll forget everything I heard," Scarlet hissed, still holding the gun on him. "Sit down."
/That's it,/ Reeve thought dismally, /I'm dead.../ He moved slowly back to his desk, as if he were walking in three feet of molasses. Numbly he sat down, not taking his eyes off the pistol in Scarlet's hand.
"That's a good boy." Scarlet sat back down on his desk, propping one foot up on it and peeling off the stocking that covered said foot. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to do this to you," she chuckled, setting the pistol down just out of Reeve's reach and securing his right wrist to the arm of his chair with her shed stocking. "You might as well just relax and enjoy it."
It was then that he realized exactly what was about to happen to him. /Oh no. Oh God no./ "Scarlet--" Reeve's voice cracked unpleasantly as it worked its way up from his dry throat.
"If you're thinking about begging me to stop, it won't work." Scarlet swung her other leg up onto the desk and slowly pushed her other stocking off. "In fact, it might just turn me on even more." She quickly tied Reeve's other hand down and burst into the cackle he knew and hated.
Reeve wanted nothing more at this point than to free his hands so he could tighten them around Scarlet's throat and squeeze slowly and kick her feet out from under her while he did so. The absolute worst part of this whole mess was that this was something he had always fantasized about...but not with Scarlet. Not with her, and not like this. With a mixture of shock and horror, he realized that his body didn't seem to know the difference and if it did, it didn't care. In desperation, he tried to remind himself that the woman who had tied him up still had a gun within easy reach and would probably shoot him any minute now. It didn't work. /Don't you dare do this to me, you little son of a--/
"Oh, that's lovely," Scarlet chuckled, admiring her handiwork as Reeve began to turn a distinct shade of red and squirm uncomfortably in his chair. "Now we won't be needing this..." She tugged his tie loose and pulled it off, then she undid the top two or three buttons of his shirt, "or this." Scarlet's hands travelled to his belt and unbuckled it; as they did so one of them strayed a little lower, brushing against the hard ridge developing just below his belt, and Scarlet cackled again upon making this discovery. "My, my--what do we have here?" She unbuttoned his slacks, then unzipped them, then shoved her hand down the front, pressing the palm of her hand against the rigid member she found there.
Reeve shut his eyes and whimpered, trying to imagine that the hand that was slithering down the front of his slacks was attached to anyone, anyone but Scarlet. The distinct sickly-sweet scent of her perfume would not let him. And in spite of everything, he realized, it did feel good.
At least it did until Scarlet's hand closed like a steel trap and began stroking him roughly. Normally, tight was good. This -hurt.- Reeve flinched and cried out softly, and Scarlet rolled her eyes. "Oh, spare me. You know you like it." But she loosened her grip a little anyway. "There you go, crybaby. Is that better?" She got no reply, and she laughed again. "God, you're hard...been a while, huh? Don't you worry. I'm going to take very, very good care of you."
Reeve gritted his teeth hard as the thought of how Scarlet intended to take care of him sent a shudder through his body. She wedged her knee between his leg and the arm of the chair and planted a few sloppy kisses on his neck and his ear, pressing her body against his as she did. He couldn't see exactly where her right hand was; he guessed, judging by the way she was moaning, that it was under her dress. He really didn't care to look down to verify that. She began to stroke him faster, whispering in his ear about how hot she was getting and how much she wanted to feel that hard cock of his inside her and how hard she was going to make him come. The stream of wicked whispers began to turn into hisses as Scarlet drew close to coming herself; they stopped with a groan as her body tensed and her hand again tightened painfully, eliciting another soft yelp from Reeve. She moaned loudly, pressing her mouth against Reeve's shoulder and then biting it through the fabric of his shirt. Slowly she relaxed, her body still pressed close to his, her hand still lazily tugging at his cock. Under any other circumstances (and with any other woman) it would have been almost romantic.
"Are you done now?" Reeve asked, trying to wiggle Scarlet off him but to no avail. She sighed, released her grip on his shaft (much to his relief) and stood up, staring venomously at him.
"I'm done," she said, kneeling on the floor between Reeve's feet. "But you're not."
"Wh--what are you doing!?"
Scarlet fixed him with a stare that sent waves of cold straight into his stomach. "Getting rid of the evidence, of course." With that, she took him into her mouth and sucked hard.
Reeve had always heard those water-cooler tall tales about Scarlet sucking golf balls through garden hoses and chrome off trailer hitches, and he'd always laughed at them. He was not laughing now. Again he realized with the same sick horror that what Scarlet was doing to him felt good, and again he felt his face turn red almost to his ears. He shut his eyes tightly, again trying to pretend it was anyone but Scarlet sucking him off, again constantly reminded by the cloying scent of cheap perfume that it -was- Scarlet. Her tongue flicked over the tip of his cock as it slid out of her mouth, and a soft moan escaped his lips. Scarlet snickered upon hearing it.
"You might as well cut the crap and admit it, Reeve. You - do- like this, don't you? Come on. I know you want to fuck me so bad you can't stand it." When she got no reply, she simply shrugged and smiled. "You can sit there and pretend I'm torturing you if you want, but I know better." And then she went right back to sucking, abruptly taking the entire length of his shaft into her mouth, causing him to moan again...and damn it, he was already right on the verge of coming; his hips moved on their own, thrusting as deeply into Scarlet's mouth as she would take him. Reeve was sure that Scarlet would take notice, stop right then, and walk out cackling, leaving him tied in his chair and unable to do anything about it. But she didn't. For once, she showed some semblance of mercy toward her fellow human, sucking him dry and swallowing greedily as he shuddered and groaned and strained uselessly against his bonds--he was coming just as hard as Scarlet said she would make him do.
Although he was grateful for the release, he was also completely disgusted...with Scarlet, yes, but also with himself for getting a hard-on for the bitch to take advantage of in the first place.
Reeve drew a shuddering sigh, and Scarlet stood up and straightened her dress. "Now that wasn't so bad, was it?" she purred, tucking his shirt back in, zipping and buttoning his pants back up, and buckling his belt. "Not a word of this to anyone, handsome." Scarlet smiled, putting his tie back on and straightening it. "You spill this, I spill your little phone call to Choco Bob. Now I am going to untie you, and I expect you not to try anything stupid. Are you going to be a good boy?"
Reeve just nodded, and Scarlet untied him.
"Damn...these are ruined..." She surveyed a long runner that had appeared on one stocking, sighed, balled it up, and threw it in the trash can. "Oh well." Scarlet chuckled, picked up her gun, looked thoughtfully at it for a moment, and then cackled.
"What the hell is so funny?" Reeve snapped.
Scarlet shook her head. "Boy, you're a sucker. Look." She ejected the magazine from the pistol and tossed it to him.
Empty.
She had been holding an unloaded gun on him. Scarlet laughed again, plucking the empty clip out of Reeve's limp hand and clicking it back into the pistol. "I really had you going, didn't I? Speaking of which...I might just decide to pay you another visit sometime. And next time the gun might be empty...and it might not. I really don't think you want to take a chance on that." And with that, Scarlet stuck the gun back in the holster strapped high on her thigh. "Be seeing you, handsome."
She was gone. Finally.
For about five minutes, Reeve sat in his chair staring numbly at the uneaten hot wings on his desk. /That...that didn't happen...did it?/ He ran a shaky hand over his eyes. /The old man's right...I've been working too hard...stressed out...I imagined that, I had to--/
The scent of strong perfume wafted up into his nose, threatening to choke him, and he bolted out of his chair, out of his office, and down the hall to the men's room. Reno had apparently just come out of the same, and Reeve almost knocked him over.
"Hey--" Reno peered cautiously at the door of the loo as it shut behind Reeve. "You okay?" No reply came, and Reno decided it wise not to follow him in there.
*************
Reeve stood shakily against the wall, his jacket in a rumpled heap on the floor at his feet. The tiled wall felt cool and soothing against his back, and focusing on that one sensation was probably the only thing that was keeping him from breaking down right there. It was no longer any use trying to deny what Scarlet had done.
/She raped me,/ Reeve thought dismally, a trembling hand still covering his eyes. /The bitch raped me. And I...I--/ As his hand fell away from his eyes, another puff of perfumed air wafted up from his shirt.
And that was all he could stand.
His knees buckled and his stomach lurched at the exact same moment, and it was all Reeve could to to stumble into the nearest stall in time; he vomited up what little lunch he'd managed to eat that day with a loud groan, barely aware that the door to the restroom was opening and someone was calling him. "Be out in a minute," he croaked, wiping his mouth and standing up shakily.
"Reeve? You okay?"
Reeve picked his way out of the stall and found Tseng looking at him with genuine concern written on his face. "Yeah...I just--" The room tilted crazily, and he reached out blindly for something to hold on to. His hands caught nothing but empty air; again his knees decided they no longer wanted to support his weight and crumpled under him.
"Oh, shit..." Tseng caught him as he fell, lowering him gently to the floor. "That's it...you're going home and you're going home right now." With his free hand, Tseng dug in the pocket of his jacket, at length finding his cell phone. He punched in the number to Heidegger's office and waited impatiently for the fat git to answer, absently brushing a few strands of Reeve's dark hair off his forehead as he did. Finally, Heidegger picked up. "Sir, it's Tseng. Listen, I'm going to take Reeve home...well, he seems to be coming down with something and I don't think he's in any shape to be driving...thanks. Bye." Tseng hung up and stuffed the phone back into his pocket. "Hey," he said softly, gently shaking Reeve's shoulder.
"Uh--?"
"Should I get you a toe tag, or are you gonna live?" Tseng asked, and Reeve groaned again. "Reno said you almost ran over him in the hall. He said you looked pretty shaken-up too...you okay? Can you stand up?"
"I think so," Reeve replied, nodding weakly, and Tseng helped him up, picking Reeve's jacket up off the floor as he did.
"I called the boss and told him I'm taking you home, and I am. Come on."
"Tseng--you don't have to--"
Tseng gave him a little smile. "It's okay. Let's get you out of here."
************
Like Reeve, Tseng had no use for a big fancy house or a bevy of servants. He did, however, have one luxury to his name: a rather powerful little black sports car which he often drove well over the speed limit. But out of consideration for Reeve, Tseng was, for once in his life since getting the car, driving at a civilized speed.
The car rolled into the parking garage of Reeve's apartment building, and Tseng nestled it into an empty spot with a "Reserved Parking" sign tacked on the wall over it. "Here we are," Tseng said, cutting off the ignition and getting out of the car.
"Thanks--look, you don't have to see me home. I'm okay," Reeve protested as Tseng began to follow him to the elevator.
"Sorry, but I'm not going to leave until I'm sure of that myself. I don't want you passing out in the elevator or something."
Reeve opened his mouth to argue the point further and was interrupted by the chime of the elevator. He stepped into it, and before he could complain, Tseng was in as well and the door was shut.
Once inside the apartment, Reeve headed straight for the bedroom, shucked his tie and shoes off, and sat down on the bed shakily. Tseng sat down beside him and gently laid a hand on his shoulder.
"Listen, Reeve...I know what this is all about."
"Yeah, yeah." Reeve rolled his eyes. "Same spiel I've been hearing from you all week. I work too hard and I don't take good enough care of myself and--"
"You forgot to turn your intercom off."
"Wh--what?" Reeve could feel the color drain from his face as Tseng spoke those words. "Did you--how much did you hear?"
Tseng drew a heavy sigh. "All of it."
"Oh God." Reeve opened his mouth to say something else, but nothing else would come out of it. He was shivering again, worse than before, and this time not even the comforting presence of Tseng's hand on his shoulder was able to calm him down. He broke down into hysterical tears, and no matter what Tseng said or did, they simply would not stop. A small black and white kitten, its curiosity piqued by the sound of sobbing, meowed softly and hopped up onto the bed, pawing gently at Reeve's knee.
"Who's this?" Tseng asked him in an attempt to at least temprarily take his mind off his ordeal, carefully disengaging the kitten's claws from Reeve's pant leg.
"I g-got him a c-couple of days ago," Reeve finally managed to choke out.
"He's a cutie," Tseng sighed, scratching the kitten behind the ear. "Does he have a name yet?"
"Cait Sith." Reeve drew a deep, shaky breath and wiped his eyes on his sleeve. "It's from this story my folks used to read me when I was little. The king of the faerie cats."
Tseng raised an eyebrow as His Royal Diminutive Catness mewed again and squirmed free from his grasp. The little furball didn't seem much like kingly material at this early stage of its life, but Tseng wasn't about to say so. "Looks like His Majesty is hungry. You sit right there and take it easy and I'll feed his little face for you. Okay?"
Reeve nodded. "Okay."
Tseng patted him softly on the shoulder and stood up, picking Cait Sith up and carrying him to the kitchen. He scooped a handful of cat food into the bowl on the floor, and the kitten went to work on it. For such a little thing, he sure could eat...that done, Tseng went into the bathroom and opened up the medicine cabinet, at length finding a never-opened bottle of sleeping pills with a light scattering of dust on the lid. He wondered why the hell Reeve had even bothered to shell out the money for them when he probably just barely managed to fall into bed before he was asleep every night, but now it seemed like a good thing he had gotten them. He opened the bottle, tipped two pills out of it, drew a cup of water from the tap, and took the whole mess back into the bedroom.
Reeve still sat cross-legged on the bed, his head in his hands, his whole body shaking like a leaf, but at least he had more or less stopped crying. "Here," Tseng offered, holding out the pills and the water to him. "I think you could use these."
Reeve looked up and frowned. "What the hell is that?"
"The sleeping pills that look like they've been in your medicine cabinet since old man Shinra was sucking on a pacifier waiting for his teeth to come in," Tseng replied, and with a wry chuckle Reeve accepted them.
"I forgot all about those," he said, swallowing them gratefully. "Thanks."
"It's nothing." Tseng said, shaking his head. "Get some rest, okay? You need it."
"Yeah." Reeve sighed and reached out for the pair of pajamas that lay in a heap on the floor near the bed. "I guess I'll see you later, then."
"Do you want me to leave?"
Reeve looked up at Tseng, and as he met the other man's gaze he realized sharply that no, he didn't want Tseng to leave. He opened his mouth to say so, and a yawn came out instead. Well, at least those ancient sleeping pills hadn't lost any of their oomph sitting on the shelf all that time. "No...I guess not," he finally sighed, and Tseng nodded.
"Good, because I wasn't going to. I told you I'm not leaving until I know you're okay." Tseng gave him a little smile. "I'm going to see if there's anything worth watching on the tube. Good night."
Reeve tried to return that last, and again ended up yawning instead as Tseng turned off the light and left the bedroom, shutting the door softly. He changed out of his shirt and slacks into his pajamas, and he was asleep almost instantly as soon as he stretched out on the bed. It was a deep, blissfully dreamless sort of sleep...well, almost. At some point, Reeve thought he felt a gentle hand on his forehead and an equally gentle voice whispering to him, although he could not open his eyes to see if there was a body attached to that voice.
"I only nag at you because I worry about you, Reeve," it said quietly; Reeve sighed as he felt the blanket being drawn up and tucked around his shoulders. "And I worry about you because I love you." He felt someone, presumably the owner of the whispering voice, kiss his forehead softly and then he slipped back into a peaceful slumber, not hearing the soft click as the bedroom door closed once more.
