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[personal profile] rapacityinblue
Title: What You Hope and What You Know
Fandom: Final Fantasy VII Compilation
Spoilers: YES. OH GOD, YES, AVERT YOUR EYES. (Not really.)
Rating: PG, some very vague sexual imagery.
Pairing: Reeve/Vincent
Summary: Intern!Reeve and Turk!Vincent, before Niebelheim, pt. 1
Word Count: 333
Note: Based off an ongoing Role Play with [profile] cry_oh_zadkiel. For [profile] 30_wounds, #19: Go Down In Flames



They stare at each other from across the desk – not on it, or under it, or spread over it. This is new.

“It's fine,” Reeve says and bites his lip, but other than that he seems to be taking it remarkably well. Vincent watches the youth and is relieved. “We never made any promises.”

Hadn't they? Whispers, murmurs against skin, into hair, lost as kisses and gasps – weren't these promises?

Reeve forces a smile and says, “You didn't really think you were the only one advancing needs here?”

They've always been honest with each other and Vincent knows Reeve has used every tidbit the Turk fed him. Blackmails, promises, power-plays and desires. No intern at ShinRa Electric Power Company has ever risen so quickly in any department except, perhaps, those candidates fast-tracked for the Turks program. Vincent has allowed it to continue because he trusts the boy to see the line, and not to cross it. He gives a matching smile. “Pragmatism is the founding philosophy --” Reeve recognizes his own words and laughs, finishing with him, “--of the ShinRa Corporation.”

Reeve asks, “What's in Niebelheim?”

Vincent responds, “Work.”

Another flash of hurt. “Isn't it always?” The intern asks.

Vincent adds, “It's a permanent assignment.”

Immediately, he wants to offer some sort of comfort. “I'll write,” he says.

“Of course you will,” Reeve grins, heartily accepting the lie. “There can't be anyone in those mountains like me.” The boy shifts. “While I'm here, are there any other surprises you'd like to drop on me? Secret plans to overthrow the president, maybe?”

As quickly as he grew conciliatory, the forced mirth makes him vicious. “We both knew this would happen.”

Reeve stands, and fastidiously pushes in the chair before looking at him. “Sometimes, Vincent, we hope anyway.” And before the Turk can respond or even process the the implication, he turns his back and goes before he can be entrapped by one more glance of the man he never expects to see again.

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