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Tough Love	By : tstearns Category: Final Fantasy VII > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 808 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy VII, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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I oozed
comfortably into a large overstuffed chair as I glanced around the room.
A pair of katana swords, one with at least a 3 foot blade, and one almost
as long as I am tall, both hung above a futon adjacent to where I sat. A
ceramic Wutain-styled theater mask painted in red and black hung on another
wall. It was a comfortable place, basic and functional and neatly kept,
and was somehow just so...him. So comfortable in fact that I had an
overwhelming urge to put my feet up on the coffee table in front of me, but
didn't, of course. 'Make yourself at home' shouldn�t be a literal
expression people casually toss around. I seriously doubt Tseng would
appreciate me trashing his apartment with empty beer bottles and cigarette
ashes walking around in nothing but my socks. These are just things you
don�t care to know about the people you work with everyday.

"How�s the wrist?" he asked shuffling out of the kitchen and setting
down two glasses of water on the coffee table before lowering himself slowly on
the futon.

I gingerly lifted the ice bag perched on the back of my forearm and examined my
wrist. The swelling had gone down slightly, but the color of the bruise
seemed to resemble a rotten bunch of grapes. And if it looked bad, it
felt ten times worse. I gave me a distinctly woozy feel just staring at
it.

"Better�n my head will feel in the morning," I lied, dropping the ice
bag back on to my wrist as I let my head sag against the back of the chair.
If I didn't have to look at it, maybe it wouldn't hurt.

"Are you going to be all right?"

"Yeah," I mumbled. "Nothing a little Cure materia can�t
handle."

Tseng scoffed. �You don�t need that shit.�

I knew there was no way that an elephant had come in and sat on my head, but
getting my head to realize that was a different story. It took great
effort to lift it and look at him, but I had to know what he was talking about
now. He never swears unless he means business. "Eh?"

"Materia..." he simply said as if that explained all the mysteries of
the universe. He paused and took an unusually long gulp of water.
"You don't need it. It�s bad for you."

Oh boy. I could feel a lecture warming up in his voice. Any minute
now, he'd break out the pie charts and slides. But despite my lack of
enthusiasm to delve into any more thoughtful conversations tonight, I naturally
took the bait anyway. "What are you talking about?"

"What does materia do?�

�Well...� I hesitated. If I'd known there was going to be a test this
evening, I would've had more to drink. Tests and I don't get along in the
least. "It depends on the materia."

Tseng shook his head vehemently. "Cure materia, Reno. What
does Cure materia do?"

"Umm..." I knew this. I really did. It was just
gonna take a moment or two to dredge it up from the bottomless pit of my brain,
and thinking hurt at the moment. "It...accelerates the human body�s
natural ability to heal itself."

"Very good, you did study..." he smirked.

I shrugged sheepishly. "Yeah, well..."

"What happens, then, when your body begins to rely on that
acceleration?"

Jeeze, Tseng was persistent. No rest for the weary, drunk or injured,
that's for sure. And I was all three. I thought for a moment that maybe
if I didn't answer him, he'd just start talking and I could tune him out like
usual.

"Well...?"

No such luck. Fine. Fine. I'd humor his little quiz and give
him what he wanted to hear. I knew the answer anyway, I just didn't buy
it.

"Your body doesn�t heal as fast naturally," I finished tiredly.

I�d read plenty of the underground propaganda circulating on the horrors and
disadvantages of materia use, usually two seconds after I ripped it out
from under my windshield and two seconds before I wad it into a ball and
throw it on the ground. I never thought Tseng actually bought into it,
though. Truthfully, there isn�t any conclusive evidence either way, just
a lot of New Age hippies speculating. The same kind of people who hand
you a glass made of genuine quartz crystal filled with wheat grass extract and tell
you to drink it to align your chakras, or some such shit.

Personally,
I think all those theories are just a bogus cash cow, marketing out new
religions to a bunch of gullible sheep. I say stare into your goddamn
crystals all you want, but I am NOT drinking a glass full of moss because you
tell me it�s good for my health. I�m a little more discriminatory in my
dogmas than that. You want money to go smoke your expensive dope from
some 8-armed octopus bong with your hippy-dippy friends and prance around an
incense stick all night? Fine. Ask me. I�ll contribute to
your cause. I, at least, can appreciate that. Some of the
highest thinking I�ve ever managed was when I was baked out of my gourd.
But don�t sell me some crystals and tell me to chant a few haikus every
morning and expect that it's gonna prolong my life and cure all my ailments.
Fuck that. Gimme materia any day. My wrist hurts and I
am not gonna marinate myself in a bunch of herbs and spices when I�m pretty
damn sure I can be done and on my way in about two seconds flat with one
materia spell.

I snorted to myself with the last freight train of thought that had hit me,
unaware I had done so out loud. "Something funny?" asked Tseng.

"Not really," I shrugged. "I just didn�t peg you as the
type to buy into all that metaphysical bullshit, that�s all."

He cocked his head to the side and eyed me suspiciously. "Really...
So you think you know all there is to know about me then?"

"Not at all," I backpedaled at once. "It just seems like
an uncharacteristic hobby for a Turk."

"Hmm," he said with a thoughtful frown. "'Hobby,' huh?
It�s not a hobby. It's just Nature," he shrugged.
"We all come from the Planet, and the Planet binds each of us to it,
and when we die, we return to it. It's like an energy. Some people
have just have the ability to manipulate or influence that force."

"Didn't I hear that in a science fiction movie somewhere?" I
commented dryly.

"Maybe. But you know what they say... Truth is stranger than
fiction."

"Yeah, but fiction sells," I wearily sighed. "Look, all
this stuff people do to prolong their lives--I'm not saying there might be not
be SOME truth to it, but I've never seen any evidence. And it doesn't
matter to me anyway because I have a better chance of dying tomorrow than I do
for living one extra day beyond 'normal life expectancy.'"

"You're a skeptic."

"No," I corrected immediately. "I'm a cynic."
That's right. Proof might be in the pudding, but I sure as hell
wasn't gonna eat it--I hate pudding.

Tseng regarded me calmly for a moment. "Wouldn't kill you to keep an
open mind," he said. "Might come in useful. Even for a
Turk."

"Hey, I�m as open-minded as the next guy. It�s just the things I�ve
come to believe I�ve based on personal experience. I don�t just go and
buy into everything because some new-age idiot wrote a book that happens to be
on the best seller list."

"So...you admit you are inexperienced..." Those words
slid off his tongue like rich cream until the last word was a dangerous hiss.
Tseng had either managed to cleverly change the subject, or put me
exactly in my place. I wasn�t sure which, but either way, it got me to
shut up.

Tseng
does that. He doesn�t throw around words uselessly so when he says
something, it almost always demands my attention. He�s got this real--smart--way
of cutting me off before I�ve said too much, something I admit I need help with
once in a while. Throws a monkey wrench in my train of thought.

Like now.
How the hell was I supposed to respond to that? All I could do was
stare at him numbly, into those liquid black eyes, eyes that make you squirm
with you REALLY look into them. And that goddamned smirk�like he knew
something about me. Everything. Like he knew it would catch me off
guard and it was nothing but a trap to get me to admit something I don�t want
to. Christ... What was I supposed to say?

"I guess..." I shrugged flippantly, trying not to blush. It was
about this time I considered leaving. I probably should have left.
But my head was still whirling, and the chair was so cozy, and my arm...
Drunk or not, I still knew where I lived and I still had two perfectly
working legs. It wasn't like getting home was impossible, and if I had
any sense I'd just go before I said or did something stupid. My problem
was that even if my conscience was in perfect working order, I just didn't want
to.

Okay, okay I would go. But I just wanted to clear my head a bit...yeah.
That was it.

"What if I could show you?" Tseng's voice shook me right out of
my reverie.

Show me� And how I wish he would. I blinked at him and tried to
stay focused on the topic. "Show me what?" I asked
suspiciously.

"Well, it's clear that you just need a little more persuasion."
He stood up slowly, setting his glass down on the coffee table as he
rose. It seemed to take him a full minute. I forget how tall he is
sometimes and it always strikes me again at the strangest moments. Rising
from the already low-rider futon, it was like watching him inflate: he just
eventually got taller and taller until he was standing up at his full height.
I watched him carefully not fully aware of his intentions, wondering if I
should follow him or just stay put. I decided staying put was best until
told otherwise.

Yeah, that's it. Good boy, Reno. Sit. Roll over... Beg.

Tseng approached me and knelt down in front of my chair. I literally had
to force myself to remain calm. I felt like my whole skeletal structure
would either collapse or burst out of my skin depending on whatever he did
next. Seeing him kneeling on the floor poised in front of me, a million
and four outrageous thoughts floated to mind and lingered there. I tried
not to look directly at him; I was sure he�d be able to read every thought in
my head as if I�d tattooed them all over my face. Tseng proceeded to make
himself comfortable by my side like it was a routine thing to do, oblivious to
my filthy imagination. Thank god for small favors.

"Ok, let me have a look." He removed the ice pack from my wrist
and picked up my arm before I could protest. His touch was gentle enough,
but I wasn�t concerning myself with that aspect of things at that particular
moment.

"What are you gonna do?" I asked warily.

"Just...try to relax," he said casually.

"Try?" I repeated uncertainly. I did not like the
way he'd phrased that. This was my favorite right arm we were talking
about here and I guess you could say I was rather attached to it.

"Reno, just shut up."

Tseng studied my arm thoughtfully for a moment, pushing my sleeve up above the
crook of my elbow. Then he clasped my hand with his as if to shake it,
and with his other hand, he reached up and gripped my forearm, firmly, but not
enough to hurt. I watched him, trying to keep a sort of detached interest in
what he was doing. So far it didn't seem so bad. He took in a slow,
deep breath and let his eyelids drop, then exhaled just as slowly. If his
lips hadn't parted and formed the slightest O, I wouldn�t have realized he was
breathing at all. I began to notice the pressure of his touch, which
seemed to be gradually increasing as he exhaled, but as the pressure
intensified, so did the pain. His long fingers were digging hard into
what must've been two main nerve junctions: one in my hand just inside the web
between my thumb and forefinger, and one on the upper side of my forearm right
near the crook of my elbow. Try to relax? It was taking
monumental effort not smack him away on reflex.

The entire ordeal probably only lasted less that a whole minute, but I was
beginning to wonder if he was ever going to let go. I became annoyed that
I couldn't make some kind of eye contact with him to let him know how much he
was hurting me, so I bit my lip hard to try and deflect some of the pain. Finally--blessedly--he
eased the pressure and gently massaged the points in small circles. He
opened his eyes again and looked up at me a little hopefully. He released
my elbow, but his hand moved to cradle my wrist.

"How�s that feel?" he asked.

"It hurt like hell!" And now that I thought about it, he was
lucky I didn't try to punch him. Try to relax... My ass!

"Yes, but how does it feel now?" he asked pointedly.

I hesitated a moment and gave him a skeptical glare. Then,
experimentally, I flexed my fingers--a considerable improvement over letting my
arm hang uselessly by my side as if a bowling ball had been grafted to it,
which is what I'd been doing on the walk over to his place and since I'd gotten
here. I cautiously rotated my wrist, which Tseng still had careful hold
of, and turned my arm over. And I didn�t feel a thing.

"Actually...it feels pretty good," I said, unable to hide the wonder
in my voice. I wasn�t sure if the absence of pain was attributed to his
little technique, or just because my pain receptors were so goddamned thankful
he wasn�t pinching me anymore that they went off and took a nap somewhere.
"What did you do, anyway?"

He grinned mysteriously and said, "Ancient Wutai secret."

Well, color my ass impressed. I wasn't ready to go renounce my lifestyle
and join a monastery or start building any temples in Tseng's name, but that
was a pretty neat little trick. Acupressure, I think they call it. Made
me wonder what else he could do with those hands...

Speaking
of which, I caught his eyes and drew attention to the fact that he was still
holding my wrist. "You're not gonna do it again, are you?"
I'd had enough lessons in Metaphysics for one day.

His grin widened into one of mischief. "Do you want me to?"

"Only if you feel like eating my fist," I scowled.

Tseng snickered and shook his head, then his smile softened as he glanced down
at his hand laying on top of mine. "Why? Does this bother
you?" he asked simply, indicating where he still touched me.

I hesitated for a moment, feeling like I could step on a landmine at any point
and have the whole thing blow up in my face. "No..." I answered
cautiously.

His thumb brushed over my pulse point for just a brief second. I didn't
know if it was intentional or not. "Are you sure?"

Well, I wouldn't say that it was necessarily bothering me.
Unsettling, maybe, but not bothering. Truth was, I was all keyed up
over the fact that he was still even touching me, but I wasn't sure of his
intentions and I was almost positive that he wouldn�t still be holding my hand
that way if he knew how arousing it was for me. One insignificant shift of his
fingers on my skin seemed to electrify every nerve in my body. This could
become embarrassing if he didn�t stop... Not that I was making a grand
effort to stop him. "I just...don�t know what you're gonna to do
next."

"And you said earlier you trusted me," he mockingly sniffed.

Oh sure. Throw THAT back in my face. Why did I have the distinct
impression he was deliberately baiting me, here? It was getting to be
extremely frustrating. For every question he threw out, I had a dozen
loaded innuendos lined up behind them to throw back, all of them popping up in
my head like individual bubbles of perversion just waiting for me to relax
enough to let one slip free. Usually, I don't think twice before I say
something; I regularly change feet when I open my mouth. But now I was having
to think three times as hard before saying anything and it was getting a little
tiring.

"Of course I trust you," I said. "I wouldn't be here if I
didn't."

Tseng grunted skeptically then let his eyes fall to my hand. "You
can relax," he assured. "I won't hurt you. I just want to
make sure you're going to be all right." He brushed his thumb softly over the
inside of my wrist again, and I felt myself tense up in reaction. Now
THAT was on purpose.

God, I didn't want him to stop... I could feel his fingers scorching my
skin, and it was soothing and exciting and nerve-racking all the same.
"I�m getting there," I said through a shaky exhalation, feeling
my stomach twist in knots. I closed my eyes and dropped my head back
against the back of the chair again, trying to concentrate on his touch at the
same time I was trying to block it out.

"Been a long time since anyone just touched you?" he asked softly.
The smile was gone from his voice and he was deadly serious.

I swallowed thickly and nodded. "A little."

He fell silent again for a moment, contemplating. "Hm. That's
too bad," he said. He shifted his
hold and began to massage my hand, tracing the tendons and bones with light but
firm pressure. "You know, touch itself can be quite
therapeutic," he mused.

Yeah, and
that's not all it was... I shifted just a little uncomfortably in
my seat, hoping he wouldn't notice, but I'm pretty sure he did. "Do
you like to be touched, Reno?"

"Oh...sure," I weakly agreed, trying to sound casual and not
succeeding very well. I sighed quietly and dug my fingers into the chair,
trying not to let him affect me, trying to concentrate for just a minute on
anything other than what he was doing. His hands were sure and dexterous and he
seemed to know exactly what to push or knead to get the best results.
Results that had me reduced to--pardon the expression--putty in his
hands. Thing of it was, he hadn't even touched anything but my arm and my
hand, and even that was starting to drive me wild; I couldn't stop my mind from
wandering.

"Most people don't like to be touched," he said evenly, carefully
turning my hand over to massage my palm. "People are so concerned
that someone else will invade their 'personal space' these days. But as
the population expands, our personal space decreases. Pretty soon, we'll
have no longer have any choice but to just stop--" He paused for a
moment, and dragged his nails out from the center of my palm to my finger tips,
an action that sent shivers racing from my hand up my arm and through my entire
body. I shuddered visibly. "--and touch one
another..."

What the
fuck? Tseng has a two-mile wide "personal space� bubble himself. He gives
the usual impression that if you touch him, he�d break your fingers one at a
time, and then reset them for you just so he could do it again.

It occurred to me that I'd never heard Tseng talk so much before. In
fact, for Tseng, this was pretty damn wordy. That wasn't like him.
His tone, deep and smooth like glass, had begun to weave me into a state
of serenity, and my defense was waning as my arousal increased. Was this
merely conversation anymore...or seduction? I didn't know... I was
confused. And while I had been enjoying it, I still couldn't ignore the
alarms going off in my head.

Suddenly, I clenched my fist into a ball and glared down at him.
"What are you doing?" I growled, annunciating every syllable.

He stopped and looked up at me with a slight look of bemusement in his
expression, and nothing more. The almond eyes blinked once, very slowly
and catlike, then Tseng regarded me with a calm gaze. "I'm just
trying to put you at ease," he said in an utterly composed tone.
"If this makes you uncomfortable, I'll stop. All you have to
do is tell me, Reno...and I'll stop."

He had me. And he knew it. The problem was I didn't know where.
If I pulled away then, it would've been obvious that he'd affected me in
more ways than just a little 'invasion of personal space.' But that also
seemed so unlike the man I worked with everyday: Tseng, always so cold, distant
and aloof toward me, toward everyone... And yet here we had been,
bonding like best of friends the whole evening. But...what if his intentions
were more than just 'getting to know you?' Just how far was he willing to
take this? How far was I willing to let him? If I pulled away then,
I'd never find out. In the end, there was really only one solution.

After a long hesitation, I willed myself to relax and opened my hand once
again.

Tseng smiled subtly and picked up right where he'd left off.

"Did you know," he went on speculatively, "that in parts of the
Eastern continent, is it perfectly ordinary to see two grown men hold hands in
public?" His fingers worked my forearm, carefully avoiding the
bruise on my wrist, then snaked up my sleeve to massage my bicep. I was
only half listening to him now.

"...sex--" And that got my attention right away,
"--has nothing to do with it. But over here in the Eastern
continent, those taboos and prejudices are quantified by a general fear of
intimacy." He wrapped both hands firmly around my upper arm and
pulled, dragging his hands downward toward my hand. If my arm could have
had an erection, it would have been hard as a rock. "Whether two men
embrace, or hold hands or even kiss shouldn't necessarily reflect their sexual
preference..."

Fuck it. My body was going to do whatever it was going to do, and I was
too damn drunk to puzzle out what Tseng was doing. Two men can kiss each
other on the other side of the world and it may not mean a goddamn thing, but
we weren't on the Western continent. Holding hands, hugging,
kissing...these aren't the kinds of things guys do together while watching the
game on Sunday. And fear of intimacy has nothing to do with it.
It's a fear of desire, plain and simple. And I was desiring
pretty bad.

His voice floated up into my thoughts. "What's your opinion?"

Oh hell. I don't know. Why don't you just kiss me and we'll find
out....

It took precisely two seconds to realize that my last thought had actually been
audible. Damn mouth. I can never trust it when I need to.

My eyes snapped open and I glanced quickly down at Tseng, steeling myself for
his reaction. I half-expected to drop dead from the look of resentment he
was sure to give me. But he wasn't mad. Calmly he blinked and
quirked an amused eyebrow and studied me patiently. "You want me...to
kiss you?" he asked silkily.

I swallowed thickly and tried to ignore the pounding in my chest. There
was no use in trying to pass this off as a joke any longer. I'd been
dying for this opportunity all night. What's the worse he would do?
Maybe he'd throw me out, maybe he'd punch me out, but maybe--just
MAYBE--he wouldn't.

Screwing up my courage, I hissed out one single word in response.
"Yes."

He hesitated for an eternally long and painful moment, then Tseng's smile
widened into a devious grin. Raising up on his knees, he bent over me,
his face so close I could feel his breath on my lips. He peered at me and
I could see the desire building in his eyes, then Tseng's mouth hungrily
covered mine. It was scorching, and insistent and electrifying, and just
what I fucking needed. Wow.

Guess it never hurts to ask, ya know?
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Tough Love