Fic: Ambition
Title: Ambition
Rating: For "Mature" Readers (PG-13/R)
Fandom: I Want to Go Home!
Disclaimer: I'm not Gordon Korman, am not profiting from it, and really don't mean any offense.
Summary: When a friend convinces Mike to get Rudy to make new friends, things go badly quickly.
Wow. I kept writing this, expecting it to be almost done, and it never was. Also, I hadn't really expected the rating to climb this high. I hope you enjoy anyway.
"So what are you?" Sylvia asked Rudy, settling across from him in the student center cafe.
"Hm?" Rudy barely looked up from his history textbook. He hadn't been reading it, but wasn't eager to get dragged into another discussion with his - Sylvia. Much like a boy years ago, Sylvia had wormed her way into Rudy's life without him quite understanding why. He tried not to think too much about it, but when she began prying, he sometimes wondered if there was a way to get rid of her.
Probably not; her stories about drummer Bugs Potter suggested she had experience with the eccentric and borderline abusive.
"When you first started hanging out with me, I thought you were trying to get into my pants." She snorted. Rudy knew better than to try to convince Sylvia that she'd been the one to start hanging out with him. "Then I thought you had a thing for that scrawny pre-med student you spend all that time with. BUt you aren't the type to put up with him dating other people if you're interested, so that theory's gone."
"I don't date," Rudy replied with a shrug.
"Oh, that's ridiculous. We all thought Bugs didn't date, and then he ended a set by shoving his tongue down Adam's throat."
"Terrifically insensitive of you, Sylvia, assuming everyone's interested in rutting," Rudy said evenly.
"What?" Sylvia asked, blinking curiously.
Rudy didn't resist the urge to roll his eyes, because he didn't even give Mike slack for being a moron, so Sylvia didn't deserve any better. "I don't participate in the whole interpersonal...thing," he clarified. "I don't see the point."
Sylvia wrinkled her nose. "What about love? Companionship? And..." She gestured helplessly before settling on several crude signs that Rudy had to smirk at. Refusing to answer wasn't an option. Sylvia was tenacious beyond all reason. But Rudy didn't feel like explaining himself to her, so he settled on the easiest explanation.
"I don't do that. And between you and Mike, I get more companionship than I know what to do with." He meaningfully lifted his history text and shoved himself away from the table. Behind him, Sylvia was frowning, but Rudy didn't have the time or energy to worry about what she thought.
Growing up, Rudy thought darkly as he slipped back into his dorm room (a single, thankfully, that he had earned through a solid month of scheming), sucked. The longer he lived, the more expectations people had of him. More and more, people needled him about his plans for the future. They asked him about his job plans, his classes, and his love life. No one seemed to understand that Rudy was dedicated to living a life with as little effort as possible, and the complications entailed by ambition, or God forbid, romance, had no place in his life.
He wasn't planning on reproducing, and once that question was out of the way, he didn't see the point in pursuing sex. He might have been a very different person if he didn't have Mike and (loathe as he was to admit it) Sylvia, but as it was, Rudy was happy with his friends, and didn't see any reason to bother with the rest. It didn't cross his mind that Sylvia would see anything wrong with his attitude.
*
Mike was in the library, trying to piece out the history of the treatment of lung cancer when Sylvia plopped down in the chair next to him and announced, "I'm worried about Rudy."
"Hm," Mike agreed, because he didn't consider it newsworthy that Sylvia was worried about Rudy. She'd spent the first three months she'd known him convinced it was her duty to drag Rudy out of his shell.
"I'm serious, Mike," Sylvia insisted. "Rudy doesn't think he deserves love. He practically told me he thinks he's going to die alone."
"That doesn't sound like Rudy," Mike allowed, slowly. "Are you sure he wasn't winding you up?"
"God, Mike, I don't know why Rudy likes you," Sylvia growled. "You're so insensitive. Rudy has feelings, just like you or me. Is it so inconceivable that he'd share them with a good friend?"
The phrase "Rudy doesn't share" was on Mike's lips before he forcibly shut his mouth to think. The fact that he had close to a decade of experience dealing with Rudy didn't mean he knew what went on in Rudy's head. It was a possibility, however vanishingly small, that Rudy had shared something intensely personal with Sylvia before thinking of going to Mike with the problem.
If he really thought on it, it seemed actually quite likely that if Rudy abruptly decided to share his emotions, he would share them with Sylvia rather than risk Mike not taking them seriously.
"Look, Sylvia, I'm not certain I'm equipped to deal with Rudy's emotional problems right now," Mike finally replied. "I've got a paper due tomorrow and a midterm the day after that. Can we talk about this later?"
"Fine," Sylvia sighed. "But I'm holding you to that."
"I'll make a note of it," Mike emphasized. "OK?" Sylvia shrugged and flounced off, leaving Mike alone with his textbook and something new to worry about.
*
Rudy idly scanned over his midterm paper on the sexist bias in educational training, nodding once he'd determined the paper met with his satisfaction. He set it on the side table by the door and then reached to open the door. He stopped when he saw there was no one on the other side.
He frowned. Mike could be expected to arrive at Rudy's apartment at 6:59 on the dot on movie nights. He couldn't imagine anything that would have delayed Mike, certainly not on movie night.
Rather than stare blankly into the hallway like a psycho, Rudy swung the door closed and settled on his couch. He frowned at the door as if that would conjure up his absent friend. After five minutes, he considered calling, but that would suggest to Mike that Rudy couldn't manage one evening on his own. Worse, it would suggest Rudy didn't know what was going on.
After a moment's thought, Rudy retrieved Ju-On and popped it into the DVD player, knowing that both the horror and Japanese language track would annoy Mike when he showed up. The possibility that Mike wouldn't show up didn't cross Rudy's mind, because he knew Mike better than anyone else alive, and Mike wouldn't skip on movie night without an apologetic phone call, e-mail, and a promise to make it up to Rudy.
Indeed, Mike knocked five minutes into the movie; Rudy paused and delicately crossed the room to open the door.
"Sorry I'm late," Mike panted. "Sylvia just caught up with me and I couldn't get away."
"Were you late?" Rudy asked archly. "I hadn't noticed. Come on in." He stepped aside to let in his friend, and crossed back to the couch before Mike could even pull off his jacket.
Rudy wondered what Sylvia had had to say that had made Mike lose track of time. He wondered what she'd had to say that couldn't wait until after movie night. He wasn't about to ask Mike, of course; that would seem needy and clingy and entirely unlike Rudy.
Still, Rudy kept letting his attention be dragged from the movie (which he didn't really like, except as a way to punish Mike) and towards Mike. He didn't doubt Mike, exactly. But something about Mike's tardiness felt off. Normally you couldn't shut him up about his day; Rudy rarely got the movie started until close to half an hour after Mike got in because it wasn't worth cutting Mike off just to get the movie started earlier.
So why was he so quiet? The obvious answer was that he didn't want to talk to Rudy, or that there was something specific Mike didn't want to tell Rudy.
He didn't have a better idea of what specifically was going on by the end of the movie, and the moment it ended, Mike was on his feet.
"Sorry to bail on you this early, Rudy, but I got roped into meeting up with some other friends later."
Rudy narrowed his eyes at the statement, but Mike didn't appear to notice the glare. "Ah. Well, don't let me keep you. I'm certain I have better things to do, too."
Something of Rudy's sarcasm must have come through, because Mike snapped his head around towards Rudy, eyes wide. "I didn't mean - I mean, I really couldn't get out of it. Look, I'll make it up to you tomorrow-"
"I'll see if you'll fit into my schedule," Rudy drawled, waving lazily at Mike as the other man fumbled with his shoes and coat. It wasn't until after Mike left that Rudy realized that Mike hadn't even giggled at the statement.
Something was wrong.
*
It took Rudy two weeks, and Mike being late to two Friday-night movies, for Rudy to pinpoint what was wrong, and he hated himself that it took so long.
Mike, who listened half-heartedly to Rudy on the understanding that Rudy would command his attention when needed, suddenly was paying an unnerving amount of attention to what Rudy said. But Rudy's sarcasm and off-handed comments seemed to upset Mike; Rudy, who made no concessions for any other human being, toned it down, and tried to engage Mike in...small talk. This only seemed to upset Mike more.
But Rudy didn't have time to see Mike's distressed expression, as his best friend was spending more time with Sylvia. At first, he claimed it was a 'thing', and then as the week passed on, stopped making excuses. He would just vanish to converse with her, skip out on meals that were implicitly Rudy's time with Mike, and suddenly became interested in Rudy's love life, or lack thereof.
It was the latter that tipped off Rudy. After a tremendously awkward discussion in high school, Mike had been incredibly supportive of Rudy's disinterest in dating, romance, or sex. He'd never mentioned it, but Mike talked endlessly on the things that bothered him; his silence was the best Rudy could hope on the subject. The reason he was discussing it now was obviously that Rudy's romantic activities worried Mike. And Mike didn't worry about Rudy, which meant someone had gotten to him.
Mike had other friends, but the only one he spent that much time with was Sylvia, the woman who three weeks ago had been trying to figure out if Rudy was attracted to Mike.
Sylvia was stealing Mike, and justified it by convincing Mike that Rudy needed a...somebody, which was patently ridiculous. Rudy had Mike, and, more reluctantly, Sylvia.
It was obvious Rudy needed a plan.
Sylvia had met Rudy long after he'd managed to arrange his life so that it continued more-or-less as he wanted it. She'd never seen Rudy fighting against a force that stood between him and what he wanted.
She had no idea what she'd gotten herself into.
*
"No," Mike repeated. Sylvia sighed and gave him an exasperated look, but Mike would refuse to budge on this point. "I'm not skipping Friday night with Rudy."
"He's become dependent on you for social engagement," Sylvia wheedled. "If you want him to reach out, you need to give him space."
"There's a difference between giving Rudy space and breaking off a standing date," Mike snapped.
"And there's a difference between him asking you to do something and just assuming you'll do it," Sylvia retorted. "He's got you wrapped around his little finger; that isn't healthy for you, either. How do your dates deal with you being at Rudy's beck and call?"
"He doesn't call unless it's something important," Mike muttered defensively. "And I don't schedule dates on Fridays."
"God," Sylvia growled. "Look. Rudy needs to learn to live without you. Just skip it for one night. Say I wouldn't let you go."
"You're not even going to keep me company?" Mike asked. "What if he wants to quiz you about what we did?"
"You're just paranoid," Sylvia assured Mike, proving that she didn't know anything about Rudy. "Anyway, I've got a thing I just can't get out of." She kissed Mike's cheek and hurried to the door of Mike's room, although she stopped to turn before leaving, lips in a flat line and brow furrowed. "Mike. You know I'm just worried about Rudy. I just want what's best for him."
Mike nodded wordlessly, even though he was pretty sure that Rudy knew what was best for himself. But he did sit in front of his computer and surf rather than pulling on his shoes and heading over to Rudy's. He was, however, painfully aware of the passage of every minute; after nearly half an hour, he couldn't take it anymore and fled the room. He arrived, panting, at Rudy's door three minutes later.
When Rudy opened the door, he was as impassive as ever, the only sign of disturbance a single raised eyebrow. Mike couldn't even detect the subtle tension when Rudy let something frustrate or anger him.
"Sylvia?" Rudy asked, and Mike, startled, took a step away from his friend.
"What?" he stammered.
"No need to admit it," Rudy replied. "Come on in. You should be lucky you've seen Friday the Thirteenth; I'm not rewinding."
Mike trailed after Rudy, mind whirling. Rudy knew, and wasn't bothered in the slightest. Mike's confusion gave way, eventually, to annoyance. He'd practically fought Sylvia tooth and nail to keep her from convincing Mike to shove Rudy out of his life, and now Rudy didn't care?
Halfway through the movie, Mike turned to Rudy and demanded, "Do you want to know why I was late?"
"Despite appearances, I am not a secretary," Rudy replied blandly. "As such, your schedule doesn't interest me."
"But I didn't intend to stand you up," Mike protested. "And I'm sorry about it."
"Mike, movie," Rudy said.
"I know I'd be furious if you skipped out on Friday night for a date," Mike continued frantically. Rudy's eye twitched almost imperceptibly, but he otherwise didn't react. "So why aren't you?"
"You wouldn't let some girl keep you from seeing me," Rudy replied evenly. "So there's no point in penalizing you for momentary lapses." His gaze didn't even waver from the television screen, leaving Mike to stare at his friend uninterrupted.
It was weird; Rudy was right, in a way that the two of them both knew without having to talk about it. But still did he have to say it like Mike and Rudy were...Mike shied away from the thought. He'd spent several starry-eyed months in high school convinced he was in love with Rudy before coming to his senses. He still had the list, somewhere, with all the reasons it had been a dumb idea. Rudy mocked Mike. He didn't know the meaning of the word 'sympathy'. He didn't share and refused to let anything get to him.
An older and wiser Mike (and, not coincidentally, a more mature Rudy) recognized that Rudy made more of an effort for Mike than he did for other people. And, Mike realized after his high-school girlfriend had left him in an emotional wreck for several weeks, Rudy cared; he simply went about expressing himself in an oblique manner.
That was not to say Mike was pining for Rudy. Rudy's half-implied suggestion, however, brought all those tangled thoughts to bear, reminding Mike of all the angst he'd worked through when he'd wondered if Rudy could ever possibly like him back.
When he left Rudy's apartment, Mike was still mulling over Rudy's apparent faith in Mike's steadfastness. It took him until he arrived home to realize what was bothering him: a simple statement of faith was too straight-forward for Rudy. Rudy'd never directly complimented Mike in his life. Which meant Rudy was trying to manipulate Mike in some plot Mike wasn't privy to. Once he realized this, Mike relaxed. There was no point in trying to figure out what Rudy was planning, and less point in trying to figure out what Rudy hoped Mike would do. Either Mike would do what Rudy expected, and he might someday figure out what this was about, or he wouldn't, and Rudy would find a new way to manipulate his best friend.
This was how Mike normally would have reacted, but this time, he bolted awake at three in the morning, heart racing. Rudy knew. Rudy knew what was going on, and was trying to guilt Mike into stopping. Mike gritted his teeth at the thought. Sylvia was right; there was something wrong with Rudy if he reacted to Mike trying to help him break out of his shell by using emotional manipulation to keep Mike nearby.
Mike was suddenly struck with a new resolve. If Rudy wasn't willing to just out and tell Mike what he wanted, Mike wasn't going to back down on this. If he thought Mike was enough of human contact for him, he could damn well say it, rather than trying to trick Mike into making the decision for him.
So Mike began making excuses, vanishing when Rudy expected him to be available, even using Sylvia as a shield when necessary. He left a message on Rudy's phone when he knew Rudy would be in class, explaining he couldn't make that Friday's movie. Mike spoke quickly and hung up before he could change his mind, and then, because it was Thursday afternoon and Mike didn't have class until Monday at 10, Mike dug out a half-empty bottle of scotch from his refrigerator and drank himself into a stupor.
It was stupid. He was getting back at Rudy, forcing Rudy to admit what he actually wanted, and refusing to be manipulated. So why did he feel like such a twit?
He called Sylvia to ask for advice; she seemed happy to give it to Rudy, so Mike assumed she'd happily help him.
"Slva?" he blurted when she picked up.
"Mike? What are you - are you drunk?" She didn't sound scandalized, but she sounded close to it.
"L'le," Mike temporized. "I gt'a ques-pro'llem."
"Does this have anything to do with why you're not talking to him?" Sylvia asked. "Because Rudy's not talking to me, either. I tried to ask him what's going on with you two, because you aren't being any help-"
"Look," Mike interrupted. "I tol'im I hadda thing tomorrow. An'i feel like shit."
"What?" Sylvia asked. "Mike, I have no idea what you're talking about."
"I've'en avoiding'im," Mike insisted. "And it's stupid."
"Mike," Sylvia said kindly, "I'm going to hang up. You can call me when you're sober. Until then, I don't want to hear from you. Drink lots of water, though; you're going to need it."
Mike glared at his phone for five minutes after Sylvia hung up, and then tossed it angrily to his bed, scowling. Fine. So Sylvia wasn't going to help. He could have fun on his own. He could just call Rudy - except he couldn't, he realized, because he'd been avoiding Rudy.
"Fuck," he muttered to the empty room. The profanity didn't make him feel better, so Mike acquired one of his last four bottles of beer and slumped on his bed.
It was long dark and approaching midnight when a knock came at Mike's door. He grumbled before deciding to remain seated. Another knock came.
"Go 'way!" Mike shouted. The room was silent for a moment after that, and then the knob rattled and clicked as someone unlocked the door. Mike stared at it blankly, only to scramble hurriedly half-heartedly towards the window when he realized only one other person had a key to his apartment.
Rudy, one foot into Mike's room, paused at the sight of his friend half-sprawled on the floor. His face was blank, although Mike, even in his inebriated state, recognized the crinkle at the edge of Rudy's eyes that meant he wanted to smile.
"Were you planning to rappel down the building to avoid me, Mike?" Rudy asked.
"Yes...no. I'm not avoiding you," Mike replied sullenly. He pulled himself fully onto the floor and sat up to glare more effectively up at Rudy.
"You could've fooled me," Rudy said. He stepped into the room and shut the door behind him, pocketing his spare key in the same motion. Rudy leaned against the wall next to Mike's bed, folding his arms in apparent ease. "Now, I feel I've been very patient with regard to this new phase of your life," he said evenly. "But I'm going to draw the line when you start drinking yourself into oblivion. It's not particularly attractive, for one thing, and it makes you think leaping out of a seventh-story window is a valid tactic for avoiding your friends."
Mike, still feeling woozy, frowned in concentration. Something about Rudy's argument didn't make sense. But then Rudy was helping Mike up to his bed and handing him a glass of water - and when did Rudy get that? - and Mike reeled simply trying to catch up with that.
"And how did Sylvia let you get into a state like this?" Rudy demanded.
"Doesn't want to talk to me until'm sober," Mike muttered.
"Tch," Rudy said absently. "And I suppose you'll tell me this has nothing to do with her."
"Was her idea, anyway," Mike grumbled. "I thought it's stupid, but..." He shrugged. Then he stared at Rudy in surprise. "What're you doing here?"
Rudy rolled his eyes. "The same thing I do every time you go on a bender. Do you think a bucket will be necessary this time? I have to admit I came unprepared for the eventuality."
"This time?" Mike inquired. "I don't remember-"
Rudy sighed in exaggerated weariness. "I should keep a tape to play for this occasion. I consider it my unenviable duty to keep you out of trouble when you take it upon yourself to murder your liver. I've invested entirely too much energy training you to let a little heartbreak force me to find a replacement."
"Heartbreak?" Mike inquired. "I'm not-"
He broke off when Rudy kicked Mike's bed, causing the world to shake for several moments.
"You could at least be honest with me," Rudy said in a sharp voice. "You don't drink this much unless you've gotten your heart broken." He sat himself down hard at the desk next to Mike's bed, eyes pinned to the floor. "Remember Rhonda?"
"Of course," Mike retorted. "How could I forget?"
"Well, I remember after Rhonda," Rudy snapped. "So I think that entitles me to say I know what you look like heartbroken." He rocked back on his chair, now looking at the ceiling rather than looking directly at Mike.
Mike opened his mouth to retort, but shut it when he realized he didn't know what he wanted to say. With Rudy's suggestion, Mike could almost remember nights similar to this, with Mike drunk and surrendering to Rudy's competent, if not particularly tender, ministrations. He felt a wave of dizziness that was probably the alcohol, but then Rudy was next to Mike, staring at Mike's face with obvious concern. The momentary shock at seeing a recognizable expression on Rudy's face didn't help Mike retain control.
It was a shame, Mike thought, that no one else got to see this side of Rudy Miller. He'd have a lot easier time of getting dates if he let people see his softer side.
Of course, that was sort of the point, wasn't it? Rudy kept his distance, and didn't have to deal with that sort of attention from people he didn't care about. But by the time Mike had figured this out, he'd somehow ended up with his lips pressed against Rudy's.
Though surprised and still woozy, Mike tried to press further into the kiss. Whatever the circumstances, Rudy was attractive, and though set aside, the foundations of Mike's crush were still there.
But then Rudy pushed Mike away, shaking his head. And of course this was the number one reason on Mike's list of why dating Rudy Miller was a bad idea: Rudy wasn't interested. Not in women and not in men.
Mike scowled and fumbled for the half-full bottle he'd been drinking when Rudy arrived, only to find Rudy's hand wrapped around his wrist.
"If I'm going to be responsible for cleaning up your vomit, I'm going to keep you from producing any," Rudy muttered.'
"Well, I can't deal with rejection sober," Mike growled.
"I am intimately aware of that fact," Rudy replied. "However, in no definition of the word can you be considered sober."
Mike scowled at Rudy, certain the effect was muted by his unfocused eyes. "N'what ab't rejection?" he demanded.
"I'm not going anywhere," Rudy retorted, and he sounded positively peevish.
"N why not?" Mike snapped. "What're you gettin' out'a this? What're you doin' with me?"
"I'm your friend, Michael," Rudy said slowly. "I should think that was clear, given our long, storied history."
"Then why t'hell'd you act all passive-agg...like an asshole?" Mike shouted back.
Rudy widened his eyes in a moment of shock before narrowing them, glaring at Mike in a measured manner. "I don't recall being the one who started avoiding my friend to hang out with his girlfriend and lying about it," he ground out.
"I don't have a girlfriend," Mike replied, uncertainly. "I'd've tole you about it if I did."
Rudy's eye twitched, which was all the warning Mike got before his friend shouted. "What the hell is wrong with you, Webster?" Rudy demanded. "Do you think I care that Sylvia asked you out? Do you think I care that obviously like her? I care because you're ignoring me. I care because you're lying about it; badly, I might add. I care because you have the gall to sit there and complain that I won't stoke your ego when you're drunk and unmanageable." He gave a disdainful sniff and dropped to a seat on Mike's bed. When he next spoke, his voice was quiet and weary. "I don't want to be the only imoprtant person in your life, Michael. I just want to have a part in it."
Mike, who had jumped at Rudy's uncharacteristic outburst, felt his stomach roil uncomfortably at Rudy's words. The uneasiness was half nausea, he suspected, but the rest was gut-clenching guilt at Rudy's desperate plea.
"Y'don't need to worry," Mike mumbled earnestly. "You're the most 'portant person t'me."
"You don't need to say that," Rudy muttered. "I told you."
"But it's true!" Mike insisted. "Yer my best friend, Rudy."
"Then why the hell have you been jerking me around? Ignoring me, pretending nothing's been going on, not to mention-" Rudy broke off and looked away from Mike. Mike, however, wasn't too far gone to notice the blush on Rudy's cheeks.
"Not to mention what?" he asked.
"You're not going to remember this, anyway," Rudy sighed. "So why the hell not? I'm happy being your friend. I'm perfectly fine going the rest of my life without a sexual relationship. But I do not need you throwing yourself at me every time you get your heart broken if you're going to pretend nothing happened the day after."
"Every time?" Mike asked, almost feeling the color draining from his face. "I never-?"
"If you honestly believe I'd take advantage of you," Rudy replied darkly, "I might as well leave right now."
"Sorry," Mike replied. "That was..." He trailed off, struggling for words. "I just...I'd wanna remember. I used t'have a crush on you," he added.
"If we're sharing," Rudy said, "I've been trying to figure out how to get you away from Sylvia. I...didn't have many good ideas."
"Jus' tell me you're upset!" Mike said hurriedly. "I don't wanna upset you. I want you to be happy. Thas why Sylvia wanted me to make you get new friends. If you'd just said you were mad at me, I'd've stopped. I would've." He tried to express his disappointment in Rudy with his eyes, but suspected he just managed to look confused.
Rudy, however, was looking at his own feet, until his head snapped back up, and he stared at Mike incredulously. "What was that about Sylvia?"
"She wanted you to be happy. Said you were gonna die alone," Mike murmured. "Needed to get out, date, stuff like that."
Rudy snorted. "If I need something, I'll get it myself. I'll tell you, too. And I'm not going to die alone. That's what you're for."
Mike wanted to make an indignant reply, but he'd already told Rudy the other man was the most important person in his life. He couldn't, however, think of anything intelligent to say, so he leaned in to kiss Rudy again. Rudy growled and pushed Mike back.
"You haven't been listening," he chided. "I'm not planning to let you into my pants just because you're drunk and lonely."
Mike sighed and curled one hand against Rudy's chest. "Yeah, I t'ink th'plan lacks ambishun."
Rudy raised one eyebrow questioningly. "Ambition?"
"I'd get al't more if I aimed f'gettin' into yer pants jess 'cause I wanna," Mike said, feeling bold and a lot less confused. "Then ya might let me do't again."
Rudy snorted. "I don't date," he said evenly.
"Nuh-uh-uh!" Mike interrupted. "You complain 'bout me kissin' and forgetting. But what'f I wanna kiss you tomorrow? Or the next day?"
Rudy's eyes narrowed. "I don't need-"
"You want," Mike declared. "You want me but yer willin' t-to settle. You've got no ambition," he concluded, poking Rudy hard in the shoulder. Rudy's eyes darkened, but the look was electric, rather than angry, and Mike, who hadn't seen honest emotion in his best friend's eyes for weeks, felt his heart leap. Rudy wanted him, wasn't just willing to let Mike express his frustration at him.
Mike leaned back and smiled at Rudy. "Y'can have it," he said. The effect was meant to be seductive, but Rudy's eyes drew together, creasing, and he was shaking his head.
"Maybe, but not tonight," Rudy replied. He tugged Mike to the bed, standing up himself, and pushed Mike onto his side. There was a thud as Rudy moved Mike's trash can next to his bed, and a rustling as Rudy moved away. Mike flailed out with his free hand, trying to catch Rudy, but his hand met only air.
"Dun go," he said plaintively, and Rudy, several feet away, paused and turned. Rudy's face morphed into an unfamiliar expression; unlike Rudy's other moments of real emotion, it didn't immediately flee. Instead, Rudy slipped off his shoes and joined Mike in bed, crawling over him to hold Mike from behind.
Feeling Rudy's warmth behind him, Mike grinned and slid back, relishing the contact. Rudy stiffened momentarily, before draping one arm around Mike.
"If you throw up on my hand, I'm never speaking to you again," Rudy warned, and Mike, despite his continued inebriation and the stress of the past several weeks, laughed.
Mike woke at first light, head throbbing and body chilled. He glanced around briefly, confused to find himself alone in his bed. He thought...
Rudy pushed open the door to Mike's room, bearing a large bottle of water. When he got close enough, he handed Mike painkillers and the bottle.
"I'm afraid I neglected to ensure you were hydrated last night, but rest assured the slip-up was your fault," Rudy said blandly. There was nothing in his eyes to suggest that he remembered Mike falling asleep in his grasp, or Mike's clumsy kiss, or the promise that Mike would give Rudy anything he wanted. He was the same old Rudy--
Except, Mike realized as he swallowed the pills and assuaged some of the pain with the water, Rudy looked a little like he did around strangers--cautious and off-putting.
The hell with that.
"It's not like I gave you much opportunity to think about my well-being," Mike said, "what with sticking my tongue down your throat."
Rudy straightened hurriedly, almost knocking the glass out of Mike's hands. His cheeks were red (and it was shocking how easily Rudy was embarrassed), and his eyes wild.
"You do remember that, right?" Mike asked. "I was the one drunk off my ass."
Rudy opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He snapped it shut, just staring at Mike.
Mike took Rudy's silence as an opportunity to keep talking. He wasn't sure he would have another chance to explain himself--sober, at least, and it seemed vitally important to seize the chance.
"Parts of last night are sort of blurry, but I remember knowing you wanted me, Rudy Miller," Mike said. "I don't know--I can be what you want. If you always want me to put your first, I will. If you want me to let you get off sometimes-"
"Will you just shut up?" Rudy snapped, cheeks scarlet.
Normally, this would have been enough to stop Mike; Rudy rarely shouted, and the rarity made such moments enough to shock Mike into silence. But he had to say his part before Rudy left.
"I don't know...exactly what you want. But anything you want--anything, Rudy, it's yours. You just need to-"
"I don't know what I want," Rudy said, almost inaudibly. "I'm perfectly fine the way things are."
Mike stared blankly at Rudy for several seconds before groaning and pushing himself off of the bed. "So what's with the making out every time I get drunk? What's with you blushing every time I talk about us and sex at the same time? I think you want me, and you're just--willing to let everything go on the way it has rather than risk anything. But I'm telling you: there's no risk. Anything you-"
"Stop saying that!" Rudy shouted. "You don't have any idea what I want-"
"No, I don't," Mike said. "As near as I can tell, you want everything to stay the same, except that I stop dating."
Rudy's expression had settled back into its neutral position, but Mike nevertheless felt something snap into place. "You do! You say you don't date, because you like what we do together, and you don't want that to change. You always want me to be here, so you really don't want me to date, so there's no chance someone will take me away from you. You can have all of that, Rudy. So all that's left to talk about is sex."
Rudy scowled. "I don't-"
"I know you don't," Mike retorted.
"I don't think you do," Rudy said peevishly. "I don't..."
Mike felt his cheeks and nose heat, and that seemed to spark a reflective reaction in Rudy. "Oh," he said quietly. "Do you want-?"
"I don't know!" Rudy snapped, and for the first time, Mike realized Rudy was frustrated at not knowing what he wanted.
"We could...try," Mike said.
Rudy, who had been looking at the floor, snapped his head up, cheeks an even deeper red than before. "But-"
"Rudy, I...I love you," Mike said. "I always want you to be a part of my life. I'm not going to settle down with anyone who doesn't accept that completely. And I told you I had a crush on you; I thought--think you're attractive. If you don't know if you're attracted to me, we can...experiment. And if you're not...no harm, no foul. I'm sure there's someone out there who'll get us." He smiled, reassuringly at Rudy, whose blush was fading, but who still looked somewhat lost.
Mike bit his lip and glanced away. "You don't have to," he said hurriedly. "I just thought...I'm not going to hate you, and I won't mind if you can't stand it, so you could-"
Rudy didn't let Mike finish his sentence, instead pinning him to the bed and crushing their lips together, with quite a bit of heat, Mike thought absently as he responded to the kiss with as much enthusiasm as he could manage at dawn with a hangover.
And having been given leave to experiment, Rudy did so. Kissing he seemed to enjoy well enough, but when it came to touching, he shied away from the more sensitive areas, although he seemed to relish the permission to run his fingers anywhere.
Rudy jerked away the first time Mike reached out to touch him, like a skittish virgin, a thought that almost made Mike burst out laughing, because it was true. So he laid back and let Rudy continue his exploration, finding the light touches as sensual and arousing as anything else he'd done. When Rudy slowed, however, Mike glanced at him, glancing down at his crotch, which Rudy couldn't possibly have not noticed.
"May I?" he asked.
Rudy's eyes darkened then, and he licked his lip nervously before nodding. There was a slight movement, and Mike glanced down, grinning when he realized Rudy liked the idea of watching Mike a lot.
In the end, Rudy didn't climax, but for all that, he seemed tremendously pleased. When they'd cleaned up, Rudy rummaged through Mike's fridge for something to eat before returning to the bed and enfolding Mike in his arms. He seemed content not to talk, as he was most of the time, which gave Mike time to think. He'd been worried and angry for weeks, which made the opportunity to think, especially after exhilerating sex, one Mike enthusiastically embraced.
He thought Rudy had enjoyed himself, but was afraid to ask. He'd thought he'd known what he was saying when he'd offered to give Rudy a chance to find out what he wanted, but as it often turned out, Mike's plans couldn't survive contact with Rudy. The almost tame experimentation had felt more sensual and, damn it, satisfying, than Mike's usual experiences, and the feeling of being held within Rudy's regard had made the whole thing...transcendent. It hadn't felt better, exactly. Just more.
And now Mike didn't know what to do if Rudy decided he didn't, in fact, do sex.
"You're thinking," Rudy said accusingly. "If you do this after every encounter, I can imagine why you're having difficulty keeping a girlfriend."
"I-" Mike began, uncertain whether he should trade barbs as usual, or share what he was thinking. He cursed himself for having leapt at this without thinking it through.
Rudy, however, seemed entirely composed, because he nudged Mike again and tightened his grip around the other man's chest. "It doesn't put me off much; I'm used to you thinking when it's unnecessary. But this is a little much, even for you. Aren't people supposed to relax when they get laid?"
"Maybe when they know what's going to come out of it," Mike retorted. "I don't even know if you enjoyed yourself, much less if you want to repeat it."
"Oh, I want to repeat it," Rudy said huskily. Mike felt the press of lips against the back of his neck. "I had plenty of fun; more than we ever had at Alcatraz."
Mike snorted. "I don't think Warden would have approved of that sort of fun. Not to mention-"
"If you say his name while I'm not wearing pants, I promise you will never get laid again," Rudy said flatly.
Mike giggled hysterically, convinced that something significant had shifted in their lives, while at the same time knowing that nothing had. He reached up and idly ran his hand along Rudy's arm; Rudy nipped at Mike's hand but made no effort to push him away.
And indeed, when they attempted a repeat of their morning activities before dinner, Rudy allowed touch above the waist, but eventually let Mike finish himself off. And this time, Mike was certain that Rudy enjoyed it, whether he drew his enjoyment from watching Mike, or knowing what his regard did to Mike, he didn't know. For the moment, it was unimportant, because it seemed that the two of them might work out.
Later that evening, dragged to Rudy's apartment to take advantage of Rudy's larger bed and fully-stocked kitchen, and still in a comfortable haze from another round of experimentation, Mike wondered if they ever would have tried this if it hadn't been for Sylvia.
Mike had stopped wanting Rudy ages ago, and as near as he could tell, Rudy didn't think about sex unless forced to. He would have been happy looking for a girlfriend who understood Rudy, but had a sneaking suspicion that such a woman was rare enough that Mike would have tried this eventually. So he thought Sylvia might be in need of thanks of some sort.
"You're thinking again," Rudy chided, pinching Mike's hip. "Stop it. It's unhealthy for the partnership."
"I think we might need to give Sylvia something," Mike said.
"Something poisonous, possibly," Rudy muttered. "I think I could have done without weeks of disruption to my routine."
Mike fought to spin around and hit Rudy's shoulder. "Your routine? Is that all you care about?"
"No," Rudy replied, eyes flashing. "But you seemed to have come through unscathed, while I will never get back all that time I spent..."
"Worried?" Mike asked.
Rudy snorted. "I was never worried, except for the state of my arm when I had it in vomit range. You have hidden depths, Webster."
"So do you," Mike said with a grin. "I never knew you were such a voyeur."
That re-awoke Rudy's flush. "I am not!" he snapped.
Mike ran a finger as far down Rudy's chest as he dared, glancing up to catch the spreading flush and, possibly more importantly, panic on the other man's face. "What's wrong?" Mike asked. "I'm not mad; I just--what do you like about watching me?"
Rudy was speechless and blushing again, which couldn't continue indefinitely, so Mike planned to milk it for all it was worth.
"Rudy?"
"I like knowing I don't need to touch you," Rudy whispered. "You know, to make you feel like that."
"Touching's a bonus, though," Mike said, grinning. "And if you want, I could always help you get there, too." He didn't let himself be disappointed when Rudy, after a moment's thought, shook his head. Calling sex the least of it didn't do justice to how much Mike was looking forward to a repeat performance, when he felt up for it, but bringing himself over the edge under Rudy's watchful gaze and with the memory of Rudy's touch was something special. Rudy letting him this much closer was something special.
And for the first time, Mike had the freedom to ask for the rest of it. He was already closer than another person ever had been to Rudy. The details didn't really matter as long as-
"Rudy? What is this?"
"A bed," Rudy replied. "It's considered ideal to let people sleep when they're in them."
"I mean, are we dating? Are you my boyfriend? Partner?" Rudy, who had, in fact, been burrowing into the blankets, pushed himself up to stare blearily down at Mike.
"I'm not doing this with anyone else," Rudy said. "The rest is just semantics."
"Are we lovers?" Mike asked, feeling a little desparate. This, at least, seemed to have penetrated Rudy's skull, because he pursed his lips thoughtfully.
"I think 'partner' is the ideal moniker to encompass the depth of our relationship," Rudy finally declared. "But if you must, you can tell people you're..." The rest was mumbled, so soft that even straining Mike couldn't hear it.
"Rudy?"
"You're the man I love," Rudy said, only marginally louder and once again blushing, this time practically scowling.
Mike couldn't resist rewarding the statement with a kiss that lasted a little longer than he'd expected, but he was grinning when he pulled back, and Rudy was smiling, too, the flush mostly gone.
"So we're on the same page," Mike said cheerily.
At that, Rudy's smile turned wicked and he shook his head. "As always, Webster, I've been reading ahead." After a moment's thought, he shrugged. "I'll fill you in on what you missed, though."
It seemed only polite to take Rudy up on his gracious offer.
Rating: For "Mature" Readers (PG-13/R)
Fandom: I Want to Go Home!
Disclaimer: I'm not Gordon Korman, am not profiting from it, and really don't mean any offense.
Summary: When a friend convinces Mike to get Rudy to make new friends, things go badly quickly.
Wow. I kept writing this, expecting it to be almost done, and it never was. Also, I hadn't really expected the rating to climb this high. I hope you enjoy anyway.
"So what are you?" Sylvia asked Rudy, settling across from him in the student center cafe.
"Hm?" Rudy barely looked up from his history textbook. He hadn't been reading it, but wasn't eager to get dragged into another discussion with his - Sylvia. Much like a boy years ago, Sylvia had wormed her way into Rudy's life without him quite understanding why. He tried not to think too much about it, but when she began prying, he sometimes wondered if there was a way to get rid of her.
Probably not; her stories about drummer Bugs Potter suggested she had experience with the eccentric and borderline abusive.
"When you first started hanging out with me, I thought you were trying to get into my pants." She snorted. Rudy knew better than to try to convince Sylvia that she'd been the one to start hanging out with him. "Then I thought you had a thing for that scrawny pre-med student you spend all that time with. BUt you aren't the type to put up with him dating other people if you're interested, so that theory's gone."
"I don't date," Rudy replied with a shrug.
"Oh, that's ridiculous. We all thought Bugs didn't date, and then he ended a set by shoving his tongue down Adam's throat."
"Terrifically insensitive of you, Sylvia, assuming everyone's interested in rutting," Rudy said evenly.
"What?" Sylvia asked, blinking curiously.
Rudy didn't resist the urge to roll his eyes, because he didn't even give Mike slack for being a moron, so Sylvia didn't deserve any better. "I don't participate in the whole interpersonal...thing," he clarified. "I don't see the point."
Sylvia wrinkled her nose. "What about love? Companionship? And..." She gestured helplessly before settling on several crude signs that Rudy had to smirk at. Refusing to answer wasn't an option. Sylvia was tenacious beyond all reason. But Rudy didn't feel like explaining himself to her, so he settled on the easiest explanation.
"I don't do that. And between you and Mike, I get more companionship than I know what to do with." He meaningfully lifted his history text and shoved himself away from the table. Behind him, Sylvia was frowning, but Rudy didn't have the time or energy to worry about what she thought.
Growing up, Rudy thought darkly as he slipped back into his dorm room (a single, thankfully, that he had earned through a solid month of scheming), sucked. The longer he lived, the more expectations people had of him. More and more, people needled him about his plans for the future. They asked him about his job plans, his classes, and his love life. No one seemed to understand that Rudy was dedicated to living a life with as little effort as possible, and the complications entailed by ambition, or God forbid, romance, had no place in his life.
He wasn't planning on reproducing, and once that question was out of the way, he didn't see the point in pursuing sex. He might have been a very different person if he didn't have Mike and (loathe as he was to admit it) Sylvia, but as it was, Rudy was happy with his friends, and didn't see any reason to bother with the rest. It didn't cross his mind that Sylvia would see anything wrong with his attitude.
*
Mike was in the library, trying to piece out the history of the treatment of lung cancer when Sylvia plopped down in the chair next to him and announced, "I'm worried about Rudy."
"Hm," Mike agreed, because he didn't consider it newsworthy that Sylvia was worried about Rudy. She'd spent the first three months she'd known him convinced it was her duty to drag Rudy out of his shell.
"I'm serious, Mike," Sylvia insisted. "Rudy doesn't think he deserves love. He practically told me he thinks he's going to die alone."
"That doesn't sound like Rudy," Mike allowed, slowly. "Are you sure he wasn't winding you up?"
"God, Mike, I don't know why Rudy likes you," Sylvia growled. "You're so insensitive. Rudy has feelings, just like you or me. Is it so inconceivable that he'd share them with a good friend?"
The phrase "Rudy doesn't share" was on Mike's lips before he forcibly shut his mouth to think. The fact that he had close to a decade of experience dealing with Rudy didn't mean he knew what went on in Rudy's head. It was a possibility, however vanishingly small, that Rudy had shared something intensely personal with Sylvia before thinking of going to Mike with the problem.
If he really thought on it, it seemed actually quite likely that if Rudy abruptly decided to share his emotions, he would share them with Sylvia rather than risk Mike not taking them seriously.
"Look, Sylvia, I'm not certain I'm equipped to deal with Rudy's emotional problems right now," Mike finally replied. "I've got a paper due tomorrow and a midterm the day after that. Can we talk about this later?"
"Fine," Sylvia sighed. "But I'm holding you to that."
"I'll make a note of it," Mike emphasized. "OK?" Sylvia shrugged and flounced off, leaving Mike alone with his textbook and something new to worry about.
*
Rudy idly scanned over his midterm paper on the sexist bias in educational training, nodding once he'd determined the paper met with his satisfaction. He set it on the side table by the door and then reached to open the door. He stopped when he saw there was no one on the other side.
He frowned. Mike could be expected to arrive at Rudy's apartment at 6:59 on the dot on movie nights. He couldn't imagine anything that would have delayed Mike, certainly not on movie night.
Rather than stare blankly into the hallway like a psycho, Rudy swung the door closed and settled on his couch. He frowned at the door as if that would conjure up his absent friend. After five minutes, he considered calling, but that would suggest to Mike that Rudy couldn't manage one evening on his own. Worse, it would suggest Rudy didn't know what was going on.
After a moment's thought, Rudy retrieved Ju-On and popped it into the DVD player, knowing that both the horror and Japanese language track would annoy Mike when he showed up. The possibility that Mike wouldn't show up didn't cross Rudy's mind, because he knew Mike better than anyone else alive, and Mike wouldn't skip on movie night without an apologetic phone call, e-mail, and a promise to make it up to Rudy.
Indeed, Mike knocked five minutes into the movie; Rudy paused and delicately crossed the room to open the door.
"Sorry I'm late," Mike panted. "Sylvia just caught up with me and I couldn't get away."
"Were you late?" Rudy asked archly. "I hadn't noticed. Come on in." He stepped aside to let in his friend, and crossed back to the couch before Mike could even pull off his jacket.
Rudy wondered what Sylvia had had to say that had made Mike lose track of time. He wondered what she'd had to say that couldn't wait until after movie night. He wasn't about to ask Mike, of course; that would seem needy and clingy and entirely unlike Rudy.
Still, Rudy kept letting his attention be dragged from the movie (which he didn't really like, except as a way to punish Mike) and towards Mike. He didn't doubt Mike, exactly. But something about Mike's tardiness felt off. Normally you couldn't shut him up about his day; Rudy rarely got the movie started until close to half an hour after Mike got in because it wasn't worth cutting Mike off just to get the movie started earlier.
So why was he so quiet? The obvious answer was that he didn't want to talk to Rudy, or that there was something specific Mike didn't want to tell Rudy.
He didn't have a better idea of what specifically was going on by the end of the movie, and the moment it ended, Mike was on his feet.
"Sorry to bail on you this early, Rudy, but I got roped into meeting up with some other friends later."
Rudy narrowed his eyes at the statement, but Mike didn't appear to notice the glare. "Ah. Well, don't let me keep you. I'm certain I have better things to do, too."
Something of Rudy's sarcasm must have come through, because Mike snapped his head around towards Rudy, eyes wide. "I didn't mean - I mean, I really couldn't get out of it. Look, I'll make it up to you tomorrow-"
"I'll see if you'll fit into my schedule," Rudy drawled, waving lazily at Mike as the other man fumbled with his shoes and coat. It wasn't until after Mike left that Rudy realized that Mike hadn't even giggled at the statement.
Something was wrong.
*
It took Rudy two weeks, and Mike being late to two Friday-night movies, for Rudy to pinpoint what was wrong, and he hated himself that it took so long.
Mike, who listened half-heartedly to Rudy on the understanding that Rudy would command his attention when needed, suddenly was paying an unnerving amount of attention to what Rudy said. But Rudy's sarcasm and off-handed comments seemed to upset Mike; Rudy, who made no concessions for any other human being, toned it down, and tried to engage Mike in...small talk. This only seemed to upset Mike more.
But Rudy didn't have time to see Mike's distressed expression, as his best friend was spending more time with Sylvia. At first, he claimed it was a 'thing', and then as the week passed on, stopped making excuses. He would just vanish to converse with her, skip out on meals that were implicitly Rudy's time with Mike, and suddenly became interested in Rudy's love life, or lack thereof.
It was the latter that tipped off Rudy. After a tremendously awkward discussion in high school, Mike had been incredibly supportive of Rudy's disinterest in dating, romance, or sex. He'd never mentioned it, but Mike talked endlessly on the things that bothered him; his silence was the best Rudy could hope on the subject. The reason he was discussing it now was obviously that Rudy's romantic activities worried Mike. And Mike didn't worry about Rudy, which meant someone had gotten to him.
Mike had other friends, but the only one he spent that much time with was Sylvia, the woman who three weeks ago had been trying to figure out if Rudy was attracted to Mike.
Sylvia was stealing Mike, and justified it by convincing Mike that Rudy needed a...somebody, which was patently ridiculous. Rudy had Mike, and, more reluctantly, Sylvia.
It was obvious Rudy needed a plan.
Sylvia had met Rudy long after he'd managed to arrange his life so that it continued more-or-less as he wanted it. She'd never seen Rudy fighting against a force that stood between him and what he wanted.
She had no idea what she'd gotten herself into.
*
"No," Mike repeated. Sylvia sighed and gave him an exasperated look, but Mike would refuse to budge on this point. "I'm not skipping Friday night with Rudy."
"He's become dependent on you for social engagement," Sylvia wheedled. "If you want him to reach out, you need to give him space."
"There's a difference between giving Rudy space and breaking off a standing date," Mike snapped.
"And there's a difference between him asking you to do something and just assuming you'll do it," Sylvia retorted. "He's got you wrapped around his little finger; that isn't healthy for you, either. How do your dates deal with you being at Rudy's beck and call?"
"He doesn't call unless it's something important," Mike muttered defensively. "And I don't schedule dates on Fridays."
"God," Sylvia growled. "Look. Rudy needs to learn to live without you. Just skip it for one night. Say I wouldn't let you go."
"You're not even going to keep me company?" Mike asked. "What if he wants to quiz you about what we did?"
"You're just paranoid," Sylvia assured Mike, proving that she didn't know anything about Rudy. "Anyway, I've got a thing I just can't get out of." She kissed Mike's cheek and hurried to the door of Mike's room, although she stopped to turn before leaving, lips in a flat line and brow furrowed. "Mike. You know I'm just worried about Rudy. I just want what's best for him."
Mike nodded wordlessly, even though he was pretty sure that Rudy knew what was best for himself. But he did sit in front of his computer and surf rather than pulling on his shoes and heading over to Rudy's. He was, however, painfully aware of the passage of every minute; after nearly half an hour, he couldn't take it anymore and fled the room. He arrived, panting, at Rudy's door three minutes later.
When Rudy opened the door, he was as impassive as ever, the only sign of disturbance a single raised eyebrow. Mike couldn't even detect the subtle tension when Rudy let something frustrate or anger him.
"Sylvia?" Rudy asked, and Mike, startled, took a step away from his friend.
"What?" he stammered.
"No need to admit it," Rudy replied. "Come on in. You should be lucky you've seen Friday the Thirteenth; I'm not rewinding."
Mike trailed after Rudy, mind whirling. Rudy knew, and wasn't bothered in the slightest. Mike's confusion gave way, eventually, to annoyance. He'd practically fought Sylvia tooth and nail to keep her from convincing Mike to shove Rudy out of his life, and now Rudy didn't care?
Halfway through the movie, Mike turned to Rudy and demanded, "Do you want to know why I was late?"
"Despite appearances, I am not a secretary," Rudy replied blandly. "As such, your schedule doesn't interest me."
"But I didn't intend to stand you up," Mike protested. "And I'm sorry about it."
"Mike, movie," Rudy said.
"I know I'd be furious if you skipped out on Friday night for a date," Mike continued frantically. Rudy's eye twitched almost imperceptibly, but he otherwise didn't react. "So why aren't you?"
"You wouldn't let some girl keep you from seeing me," Rudy replied evenly. "So there's no point in penalizing you for momentary lapses." His gaze didn't even waver from the television screen, leaving Mike to stare at his friend uninterrupted.
It was weird; Rudy was right, in a way that the two of them both knew without having to talk about it. But still did he have to say it like Mike and Rudy were...Mike shied away from the thought. He'd spent several starry-eyed months in high school convinced he was in love with Rudy before coming to his senses. He still had the list, somewhere, with all the reasons it had been a dumb idea. Rudy mocked Mike. He didn't know the meaning of the word 'sympathy'. He didn't share and refused to let anything get to him.
An older and wiser Mike (and, not coincidentally, a more mature Rudy) recognized that Rudy made more of an effort for Mike than he did for other people. And, Mike realized after his high-school girlfriend had left him in an emotional wreck for several weeks, Rudy cared; he simply went about expressing himself in an oblique manner.
That was not to say Mike was pining for Rudy. Rudy's half-implied suggestion, however, brought all those tangled thoughts to bear, reminding Mike of all the angst he'd worked through when he'd wondered if Rudy could ever possibly like him back.
When he left Rudy's apartment, Mike was still mulling over Rudy's apparent faith in Mike's steadfastness. It took him until he arrived home to realize what was bothering him: a simple statement of faith was too straight-forward for Rudy. Rudy'd never directly complimented Mike in his life. Which meant Rudy was trying to manipulate Mike in some plot Mike wasn't privy to. Once he realized this, Mike relaxed. There was no point in trying to figure out what Rudy was planning, and less point in trying to figure out what Rudy hoped Mike would do. Either Mike would do what Rudy expected, and he might someday figure out what this was about, or he wouldn't, and Rudy would find a new way to manipulate his best friend.
This was how Mike normally would have reacted, but this time, he bolted awake at three in the morning, heart racing. Rudy knew. Rudy knew what was going on, and was trying to guilt Mike into stopping. Mike gritted his teeth at the thought. Sylvia was right; there was something wrong with Rudy if he reacted to Mike trying to help him break out of his shell by using emotional manipulation to keep Mike nearby.
Mike was suddenly struck with a new resolve. If Rudy wasn't willing to just out and tell Mike what he wanted, Mike wasn't going to back down on this. If he thought Mike was enough of human contact for him, he could damn well say it, rather than trying to trick Mike into making the decision for him.
So Mike began making excuses, vanishing when Rudy expected him to be available, even using Sylvia as a shield when necessary. He left a message on Rudy's phone when he knew Rudy would be in class, explaining he couldn't make that Friday's movie. Mike spoke quickly and hung up before he could change his mind, and then, because it was Thursday afternoon and Mike didn't have class until Monday at 10, Mike dug out a half-empty bottle of scotch from his refrigerator and drank himself into a stupor.
It was stupid. He was getting back at Rudy, forcing Rudy to admit what he actually wanted, and refusing to be manipulated. So why did he feel like such a twit?
He called Sylvia to ask for advice; she seemed happy to give it to Rudy, so Mike assumed she'd happily help him.
"Slva?" he blurted when she picked up.
"Mike? What are you - are you drunk?" She didn't sound scandalized, but she sounded close to it.
"L'le," Mike temporized. "I gt'a ques-pro'llem."
"Does this have anything to do with why you're not talking to him?" Sylvia asked. "Because Rudy's not talking to me, either. I tried to ask him what's going on with you two, because you aren't being any help-"
"Look," Mike interrupted. "I tol'im I hadda thing tomorrow. An'i feel like shit."
"What?" Sylvia asked. "Mike, I have no idea what you're talking about."
"I've'en avoiding'im," Mike insisted. "And it's stupid."
"Mike," Sylvia said kindly, "I'm going to hang up. You can call me when you're sober. Until then, I don't want to hear from you. Drink lots of water, though; you're going to need it."
Mike glared at his phone for five minutes after Sylvia hung up, and then tossed it angrily to his bed, scowling. Fine. So Sylvia wasn't going to help. He could have fun on his own. He could just call Rudy - except he couldn't, he realized, because he'd been avoiding Rudy.
"Fuck," he muttered to the empty room. The profanity didn't make him feel better, so Mike acquired one of his last four bottles of beer and slumped on his bed.
It was long dark and approaching midnight when a knock came at Mike's door. He grumbled before deciding to remain seated. Another knock came.
"Go 'way!" Mike shouted. The room was silent for a moment after that, and then the knob rattled and clicked as someone unlocked the door. Mike stared at it blankly, only to scramble hurriedly half-heartedly towards the window when he realized only one other person had a key to his apartment.
Rudy, one foot into Mike's room, paused at the sight of his friend half-sprawled on the floor. His face was blank, although Mike, even in his inebriated state, recognized the crinkle at the edge of Rudy's eyes that meant he wanted to smile.
"Were you planning to rappel down the building to avoid me, Mike?" Rudy asked.
"Yes...no. I'm not avoiding you," Mike replied sullenly. He pulled himself fully onto the floor and sat up to glare more effectively up at Rudy.
"You could've fooled me," Rudy said. He stepped into the room and shut the door behind him, pocketing his spare key in the same motion. Rudy leaned against the wall next to Mike's bed, folding his arms in apparent ease. "Now, I feel I've been very patient with regard to this new phase of your life," he said evenly. "But I'm going to draw the line when you start drinking yourself into oblivion. It's not particularly attractive, for one thing, and it makes you think leaping out of a seventh-story window is a valid tactic for avoiding your friends."
Mike, still feeling woozy, frowned in concentration. Something about Rudy's argument didn't make sense. But then Rudy was helping Mike up to his bed and handing him a glass of water - and when did Rudy get that? - and Mike reeled simply trying to catch up with that.
"And how did Sylvia let you get into a state like this?" Rudy demanded.
"Doesn't want to talk to me until'm sober," Mike muttered.
"Tch," Rudy said absently. "And I suppose you'll tell me this has nothing to do with her."
"Was her idea, anyway," Mike grumbled. "I thought it's stupid, but..." He shrugged. Then he stared at Rudy in surprise. "What're you doing here?"
Rudy rolled his eyes. "The same thing I do every time you go on a bender. Do you think a bucket will be necessary this time? I have to admit I came unprepared for the eventuality."
"This time?" Mike inquired. "I don't remember-"
Rudy sighed in exaggerated weariness. "I should keep a tape to play for this occasion. I consider it my unenviable duty to keep you out of trouble when you take it upon yourself to murder your liver. I've invested entirely too much energy training you to let a little heartbreak force me to find a replacement."
"Heartbreak?" Mike inquired. "I'm not-"
He broke off when Rudy kicked Mike's bed, causing the world to shake for several moments.
"You could at least be honest with me," Rudy said in a sharp voice. "You don't drink this much unless you've gotten your heart broken." He sat himself down hard at the desk next to Mike's bed, eyes pinned to the floor. "Remember Rhonda?"
"Of course," Mike retorted. "How could I forget?"
"Well, I remember after Rhonda," Rudy snapped. "So I think that entitles me to say I know what you look like heartbroken." He rocked back on his chair, now looking at the ceiling rather than looking directly at Mike.
Mike opened his mouth to retort, but shut it when he realized he didn't know what he wanted to say. With Rudy's suggestion, Mike could almost remember nights similar to this, with Mike drunk and surrendering to Rudy's competent, if not particularly tender, ministrations. He felt a wave of dizziness that was probably the alcohol, but then Rudy was next to Mike, staring at Mike's face with obvious concern. The momentary shock at seeing a recognizable expression on Rudy's face didn't help Mike retain control.
It was a shame, Mike thought, that no one else got to see this side of Rudy Miller. He'd have a lot easier time of getting dates if he let people see his softer side.
Of course, that was sort of the point, wasn't it? Rudy kept his distance, and didn't have to deal with that sort of attention from people he didn't care about. But by the time Mike had figured this out, he'd somehow ended up with his lips pressed against Rudy's.
Though surprised and still woozy, Mike tried to press further into the kiss. Whatever the circumstances, Rudy was attractive, and though set aside, the foundations of Mike's crush were still there.
But then Rudy pushed Mike away, shaking his head. And of course this was the number one reason on Mike's list of why dating Rudy Miller was a bad idea: Rudy wasn't interested. Not in women and not in men.
Mike scowled and fumbled for the half-full bottle he'd been drinking when Rudy arrived, only to find Rudy's hand wrapped around his wrist.
"If I'm going to be responsible for cleaning up your vomit, I'm going to keep you from producing any," Rudy muttered.'
"Well, I can't deal with rejection sober," Mike growled.
"I am intimately aware of that fact," Rudy replied. "However, in no definition of the word can you be considered sober."
Mike scowled at Rudy, certain the effect was muted by his unfocused eyes. "N'what ab't rejection?" he demanded.
"I'm not going anywhere," Rudy retorted, and he sounded positively peevish.
"N why not?" Mike snapped. "What're you gettin' out'a this? What're you doin' with me?"
"I'm your friend, Michael," Rudy said slowly. "I should think that was clear, given our long, storied history."
"Then why t'hell'd you act all passive-agg...like an asshole?" Mike shouted back.
Rudy widened his eyes in a moment of shock before narrowing them, glaring at Mike in a measured manner. "I don't recall being the one who started avoiding my friend to hang out with his girlfriend and lying about it," he ground out.
"I don't have a girlfriend," Mike replied, uncertainly. "I'd've tole you about it if I did."
Rudy's eye twitched, which was all the warning Mike got before his friend shouted. "What the hell is wrong with you, Webster?" Rudy demanded. "Do you think I care that Sylvia asked you out? Do you think I care that obviously like her? I care because you're ignoring me. I care because you're lying about it; badly, I might add. I care because you have the gall to sit there and complain that I won't stoke your ego when you're drunk and unmanageable." He gave a disdainful sniff and dropped to a seat on Mike's bed. When he next spoke, his voice was quiet and weary. "I don't want to be the only imoprtant person in your life, Michael. I just want to have a part in it."
Mike, who had jumped at Rudy's uncharacteristic outburst, felt his stomach roil uncomfortably at Rudy's words. The uneasiness was half nausea, he suspected, but the rest was gut-clenching guilt at Rudy's desperate plea.
"Y'don't need to worry," Mike mumbled earnestly. "You're the most 'portant person t'me."
"You don't need to say that," Rudy muttered. "I told you."
"But it's true!" Mike insisted. "Yer my best friend, Rudy."
"Then why the hell have you been jerking me around? Ignoring me, pretending nothing's been going on, not to mention-" Rudy broke off and looked away from Mike. Mike, however, wasn't too far gone to notice the blush on Rudy's cheeks.
"Not to mention what?" he asked.
"You're not going to remember this, anyway," Rudy sighed. "So why the hell not? I'm happy being your friend. I'm perfectly fine going the rest of my life without a sexual relationship. But I do not need you throwing yourself at me every time you get your heart broken if you're going to pretend nothing happened the day after."
"Every time?" Mike asked, almost feeling the color draining from his face. "I never-?"
"If you honestly believe I'd take advantage of you," Rudy replied darkly, "I might as well leave right now."
"Sorry," Mike replied. "That was..." He trailed off, struggling for words. "I just...I'd wanna remember. I used t'have a crush on you," he added.
"If we're sharing," Rudy said, "I've been trying to figure out how to get you away from Sylvia. I...didn't have many good ideas."
"Jus' tell me you're upset!" Mike said hurriedly. "I don't wanna upset you. I want you to be happy. Thas why Sylvia wanted me to make you get new friends. If you'd just said you were mad at me, I'd've stopped. I would've." He tried to express his disappointment in Rudy with his eyes, but suspected he just managed to look confused.
Rudy, however, was looking at his own feet, until his head snapped back up, and he stared at Mike incredulously. "What was that about Sylvia?"
"She wanted you to be happy. Said you were gonna die alone," Mike murmured. "Needed to get out, date, stuff like that."
Rudy snorted. "If I need something, I'll get it myself. I'll tell you, too. And I'm not going to die alone. That's what you're for."
Mike wanted to make an indignant reply, but he'd already told Rudy the other man was the most important person in his life. He couldn't, however, think of anything intelligent to say, so he leaned in to kiss Rudy again. Rudy growled and pushed Mike back.
"You haven't been listening," he chided. "I'm not planning to let you into my pants just because you're drunk and lonely."
Mike sighed and curled one hand against Rudy's chest. "Yeah, I t'ink th'plan lacks ambishun."
Rudy raised one eyebrow questioningly. "Ambition?"
"I'd get al't more if I aimed f'gettin' into yer pants jess 'cause I wanna," Mike said, feeling bold and a lot less confused. "Then ya might let me do't again."
Rudy snorted. "I don't date," he said evenly.
"Nuh-uh-uh!" Mike interrupted. "You complain 'bout me kissin' and forgetting. But what'f I wanna kiss you tomorrow? Or the next day?"
Rudy's eyes narrowed. "I don't need-"
"You want," Mike declared. "You want me but yer willin' t-to settle. You've got no ambition," he concluded, poking Rudy hard in the shoulder. Rudy's eyes darkened, but the look was electric, rather than angry, and Mike, who hadn't seen honest emotion in his best friend's eyes for weeks, felt his heart leap. Rudy wanted him, wasn't just willing to let Mike express his frustration at him.
Mike leaned back and smiled at Rudy. "Y'can have it," he said. The effect was meant to be seductive, but Rudy's eyes drew together, creasing, and he was shaking his head.
"Maybe, but not tonight," Rudy replied. He tugged Mike to the bed, standing up himself, and pushed Mike onto his side. There was a thud as Rudy moved Mike's trash can next to his bed, and a rustling as Rudy moved away. Mike flailed out with his free hand, trying to catch Rudy, but his hand met only air.
"Dun go," he said plaintively, and Rudy, several feet away, paused and turned. Rudy's face morphed into an unfamiliar expression; unlike Rudy's other moments of real emotion, it didn't immediately flee. Instead, Rudy slipped off his shoes and joined Mike in bed, crawling over him to hold Mike from behind.
Feeling Rudy's warmth behind him, Mike grinned and slid back, relishing the contact. Rudy stiffened momentarily, before draping one arm around Mike.
"If you throw up on my hand, I'm never speaking to you again," Rudy warned, and Mike, despite his continued inebriation and the stress of the past several weeks, laughed.
Mike woke at first light, head throbbing and body chilled. He glanced around briefly, confused to find himself alone in his bed. He thought...
Rudy pushed open the door to Mike's room, bearing a large bottle of water. When he got close enough, he handed Mike painkillers and the bottle.
"I'm afraid I neglected to ensure you were hydrated last night, but rest assured the slip-up was your fault," Rudy said blandly. There was nothing in his eyes to suggest that he remembered Mike falling asleep in his grasp, or Mike's clumsy kiss, or the promise that Mike would give Rudy anything he wanted. He was the same old Rudy--
Except, Mike realized as he swallowed the pills and assuaged some of the pain with the water, Rudy looked a little like he did around strangers--cautious and off-putting.
The hell with that.
"It's not like I gave you much opportunity to think about my well-being," Mike said, "what with sticking my tongue down your throat."
Rudy straightened hurriedly, almost knocking the glass out of Mike's hands. His cheeks were red (and it was shocking how easily Rudy was embarrassed), and his eyes wild.
"You do remember that, right?" Mike asked. "I was the one drunk off my ass."
Rudy opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He snapped it shut, just staring at Mike.
Mike took Rudy's silence as an opportunity to keep talking. He wasn't sure he would have another chance to explain himself--sober, at least, and it seemed vitally important to seize the chance.
"Parts of last night are sort of blurry, but I remember knowing you wanted me, Rudy Miller," Mike said. "I don't know--I can be what you want. If you always want me to put your first, I will. If you want me to let you get off sometimes-"
"Will you just shut up?" Rudy snapped, cheeks scarlet.
Normally, this would have been enough to stop Mike; Rudy rarely shouted, and the rarity made such moments enough to shock Mike into silence. But he had to say his part before Rudy left.
"I don't know...exactly what you want. But anything you want--anything, Rudy, it's yours. You just need to-"
"I don't know what I want," Rudy said, almost inaudibly. "I'm perfectly fine the way things are."
Mike stared blankly at Rudy for several seconds before groaning and pushing himself off of the bed. "So what's with the making out every time I get drunk? What's with you blushing every time I talk about us and sex at the same time? I think you want me, and you're just--willing to let everything go on the way it has rather than risk anything. But I'm telling you: there's no risk. Anything you-"
"Stop saying that!" Rudy shouted. "You don't have any idea what I want-"
"No, I don't," Mike said. "As near as I can tell, you want everything to stay the same, except that I stop dating."
Rudy's expression had settled back into its neutral position, but Mike nevertheless felt something snap into place. "You do! You say you don't date, because you like what we do together, and you don't want that to change. You always want me to be here, so you really don't want me to date, so there's no chance someone will take me away from you. You can have all of that, Rudy. So all that's left to talk about is sex."
Rudy scowled. "I don't-"
"I know you don't," Mike retorted.
"I don't think you do," Rudy said peevishly. "I don't..."
Mike felt his cheeks and nose heat, and that seemed to spark a reflective reaction in Rudy. "Oh," he said quietly. "Do you want-?"
"I don't know!" Rudy snapped, and for the first time, Mike realized Rudy was frustrated at not knowing what he wanted.
"We could...try," Mike said.
Rudy, who had been looking at the floor, snapped his head up, cheeks an even deeper red than before. "But-"
"Rudy, I...I love you," Mike said. "I always want you to be a part of my life. I'm not going to settle down with anyone who doesn't accept that completely. And I told you I had a crush on you; I thought--think you're attractive. If you don't know if you're attracted to me, we can...experiment. And if you're not...no harm, no foul. I'm sure there's someone out there who'll get us." He smiled, reassuringly at Rudy, whose blush was fading, but who still looked somewhat lost.
Mike bit his lip and glanced away. "You don't have to," he said hurriedly. "I just thought...I'm not going to hate you, and I won't mind if you can't stand it, so you could-"
Rudy didn't let Mike finish his sentence, instead pinning him to the bed and crushing their lips together, with quite a bit of heat, Mike thought absently as he responded to the kiss with as much enthusiasm as he could manage at dawn with a hangover.
And having been given leave to experiment, Rudy did so. Kissing he seemed to enjoy well enough, but when it came to touching, he shied away from the more sensitive areas, although he seemed to relish the permission to run his fingers anywhere.
Rudy jerked away the first time Mike reached out to touch him, like a skittish virgin, a thought that almost made Mike burst out laughing, because it was true. So he laid back and let Rudy continue his exploration, finding the light touches as sensual and arousing as anything else he'd done. When Rudy slowed, however, Mike glanced at him, glancing down at his crotch, which Rudy couldn't possibly have not noticed.
"May I?" he asked.
Rudy's eyes darkened then, and he licked his lip nervously before nodding. There was a slight movement, and Mike glanced down, grinning when he realized Rudy liked the idea of watching Mike a lot.
In the end, Rudy didn't climax, but for all that, he seemed tremendously pleased. When they'd cleaned up, Rudy rummaged through Mike's fridge for something to eat before returning to the bed and enfolding Mike in his arms. He seemed content not to talk, as he was most of the time, which gave Mike time to think. He'd been worried and angry for weeks, which made the opportunity to think, especially after exhilerating sex, one Mike enthusiastically embraced.
He thought Rudy had enjoyed himself, but was afraid to ask. He'd thought he'd known what he was saying when he'd offered to give Rudy a chance to find out what he wanted, but as it often turned out, Mike's plans couldn't survive contact with Rudy. The almost tame experimentation had felt more sensual and, damn it, satisfying, than Mike's usual experiences, and the feeling of being held within Rudy's regard had made the whole thing...transcendent. It hadn't felt better, exactly. Just more.
And now Mike didn't know what to do if Rudy decided he didn't, in fact, do sex.
"You're thinking," Rudy said accusingly. "If you do this after every encounter, I can imagine why you're having difficulty keeping a girlfriend."
"I-" Mike began, uncertain whether he should trade barbs as usual, or share what he was thinking. He cursed himself for having leapt at this without thinking it through.
Rudy, however, seemed entirely composed, because he nudged Mike again and tightened his grip around the other man's chest. "It doesn't put me off much; I'm used to you thinking when it's unnecessary. But this is a little much, even for you. Aren't people supposed to relax when they get laid?"
"Maybe when they know what's going to come out of it," Mike retorted. "I don't even know if you enjoyed yourself, much less if you want to repeat it."
"Oh, I want to repeat it," Rudy said huskily. Mike felt the press of lips against the back of his neck. "I had plenty of fun; more than we ever had at Alcatraz."
Mike snorted. "I don't think Warden would have approved of that sort of fun. Not to mention-"
"If you say his name while I'm not wearing pants, I promise you will never get laid again," Rudy said flatly.
Mike giggled hysterically, convinced that something significant had shifted in their lives, while at the same time knowing that nothing had. He reached up and idly ran his hand along Rudy's arm; Rudy nipped at Mike's hand but made no effort to push him away.
And indeed, when they attempted a repeat of their morning activities before dinner, Rudy allowed touch above the waist, but eventually let Mike finish himself off. And this time, Mike was certain that Rudy enjoyed it, whether he drew his enjoyment from watching Mike, or knowing what his regard did to Mike, he didn't know. For the moment, it was unimportant, because it seemed that the two of them might work out.
Later that evening, dragged to Rudy's apartment to take advantage of Rudy's larger bed and fully-stocked kitchen, and still in a comfortable haze from another round of experimentation, Mike wondered if they ever would have tried this if it hadn't been for Sylvia.
Mike had stopped wanting Rudy ages ago, and as near as he could tell, Rudy didn't think about sex unless forced to. He would have been happy looking for a girlfriend who understood Rudy, but had a sneaking suspicion that such a woman was rare enough that Mike would have tried this eventually. So he thought Sylvia might be in need of thanks of some sort.
"You're thinking again," Rudy chided, pinching Mike's hip. "Stop it. It's unhealthy for the partnership."
"I think we might need to give Sylvia something," Mike said.
"Something poisonous, possibly," Rudy muttered. "I think I could have done without weeks of disruption to my routine."
Mike fought to spin around and hit Rudy's shoulder. "Your routine? Is that all you care about?"
"No," Rudy replied, eyes flashing. "But you seemed to have come through unscathed, while I will never get back all that time I spent..."
"Worried?" Mike asked.
Rudy snorted. "I was never worried, except for the state of my arm when I had it in vomit range. You have hidden depths, Webster."
"So do you," Mike said with a grin. "I never knew you were such a voyeur."
That re-awoke Rudy's flush. "I am not!" he snapped.
Mike ran a finger as far down Rudy's chest as he dared, glancing up to catch the spreading flush and, possibly more importantly, panic on the other man's face. "What's wrong?" Mike asked. "I'm not mad; I just--what do you like about watching me?"
Rudy was speechless and blushing again, which couldn't continue indefinitely, so Mike planned to milk it for all it was worth.
"Rudy?"
"I like knowing I don't need to touch you," Rudy whispered. "You know, to make you feel like that."
"Touching's a bonus, though," Mike said, grinning. "And if you want, I could always help you get there, too." He didn't let himself be disappointed when Rudy, after a moment's thought, shook his head. Calling sex the least of it didn't do justice to how much Mike was looking forward to a repeat performance, when he felt up for it, but bringing himself over the edge under Rudy's watchful gaze and with the memory of Rudy's touch was something special. Rudy letting him this much closer was something special.
And for the first time, Mike had the freedom to ask for the rest of it. He was already closer than another person ever had been to Rudy. The details didn't really matter as long as-
"Rudy? What is this?"
"A bed," Rudy replied. "It's considered ideal to let people sleep when they're in them."
"I mean, are we dating? Are you my boyfriend? Partner?" Rudy, who had, in fact, been burrowing into the blankets, pushed himself up to stare blearily down at Mike.
"I'm not doing this with anyone else," Rudy said. "The rest is just semantics."
"Are we lovers?" Mike asked, feeling a little desparate. This, at least, seemed to have penetrated Rudy's skull, because he pursed his lips thoughtfully.
"I think 'partner' is the ideal moniker to encompass the depth of our relationship," Rudy finally declared. "But if you must, you can tell people you're..." The rest was mumbled, so soft that even straining Mike couldn't hear it.
"Rudy?"
"You're the man I love," Rudy said, only marginally louder and once again blushing, this time practically scowling.
Mike couldn't resist rewarding the statement with a kiss that lasted a little longer than he'd expected, but he was grinning when he pulled back, and Rudy was smiling, too, the flush mostly gone.
"So we're on the same page," Mike said cheerily.
At that, Rudy's smile turned wicked and he shook his head. "As always, Webster, I've been reading ahead." After a moment's thought, he shrugged. "I'll fill you in on what you missed, though."
It seemed only polite to take Rudy up on his gracious offer.