🍾🥂Snippets 2/6 - Reed

*spoilers for the second arc of Avulsion, regarding Reed’s fate post the VN.

The private lounge is large and secluded by a half-drawn, semitransparent curtain. The gap between the column and the material is wide enough to give you a good look at the partygoers mingling in and out of the VIP section. The muffled electronic music and shards of conversations blend together into an incomprehensible background noise.

Supported by a double dosage of a high-grade blocker, you can enjoy a rare time during which your sense of smell is the closest to a regular person’s it has been since your affliction awakened. It’s novel, if strange. When you take a deep breath, all you can smell is fruit cocktail and Reed’s cologne.

The settee you share is spacious enough to fit ten people. It’s almost a shame to have just two, huddled up together, utilizing a single seat. Separated from the general crowd, you’re less on edge than you were when you entered the club, though you can’t honestly say that you blend with the surrounding well, not yet.

Reed, on the other hand, fits in perfectly. His nimble, frost-wet fingers twirl a tall flute of a cosmopolitan made to shine neon pink under the changing light. Decorated like a magpie, Reed’s clad in a simple in comparison black jacket, with freshly cut hair gelled fully out of the way. It’s a different look on him, more mature, though no less charming.

It’s not the first time you thought this, even if you’ve never voiced it out loud. You don’t have a habit of feeding Reed’s ego. Hell, he doesn’t need another person fawning over him incessantly, although no doubt he’d appreciate the praise.

Credit where credit is due, however. You’ve never met another agent-in-training who makes an undercover job look quite as easy as he does. It’s most likely why he was chosen for the role, despite the lower tier. The ACB, contrary to most of the departments, is known for making exceptions, even if their requirements are notoriously hard to pass.

But you came through, both of you, that is. Even if your supervisor is unorthodox in her handling of the agents, you can’t deny her excellent judgment of character and abilities of the individuals they employ. If you were training to become an SPD agent, you’d be able to only dream about being paired with a significant other.

The ACB, though? To quote the boss, ‘Who’d play the part of a couple better than an actual couple? Just remember to keep your hands to yourself... at least until the perp is caught.’ You could have gone without the wink-wink nudge-nudge from half of the trainees present at the briefing, but Reed’s honest laughter was worth the price of a little embarrassment.

Besides, Tsai was right. The location has been secured, the target caught, and you’ve received the all-clear for the night. It’s something more personal that keeps you in your place long after the mission has ended.

Reed’s staring into the crowd. Though he seems relaxed, you know him far too well to fall for his lopsided smile that is painted on his face by force of habit alone, or the arm he has wrapped around your shoulders, holding you a tad tighter than the situation warrants.

The vendetta he’s harboring is deeper than yours, even though it was you who almost died that one time, having been mixed up in Marco’s ploy. Yes, staying at the club is only partially a retreat, ever since Reed’s got a tip informing him about the presence of a certain ‘acquaintance’ of yours. Poor Marco’s been forced to look for fun elsewhere after being banned from his own co-owned establishment.

Funnily enough, Alan cashed one of his favors to have Reed ‘behave himself,’ for the sake of keeping his friend’s pet alive and kicking. Not that Reed actually wants to get rid of Marco permanently... at least that’s what you assume.

Honestly, after the long weeks of preparation, you’d much rather simply unwind than chase after a guy who might as well get himself killed on his own, even with his friend’s renewed protection... and a tighter fastened leash.

So, you stayed behind after a round of puppy eyes and begging, left to take your bitter revenge by liberally stealing a sip after a sip from Reed’s glass while you wait for your own to be refilled. With every swallow of the sugary drink, you sink deeper into the cradle of Reed’s arm, puffing a silent laugh at the half-bemused, half-diverted look Reed sends his now-empty glass when his eyes finally leave the crowd.

“I thought you said it’s way too sweet,” he mocks half-heartedly, twisting his neck so that his cheek brushes against the top of your head.

“Did I? I don’t recall.”

His grin is lost in the strands of your hair, hidden from the view of the waiter that stops by with your order. They greet Reed by name as they clean away the empty glasses, more curbed than cordial, which sets them as one of Reed’s debtors rather than admirers.

Reed doesn’t care to wait for them to retreat before he palms your hand, in which you just grasped your new drink. Tilting it towards himself, he downs nearly half of it in one go before you yank it - and yourself - away, careful not to spill the rest of the liquid all over your expensive outfit.

At your affronted grumble, Reed only shrugs, shifting to demolish the meager space you’ve created between you. “Sharin’ is carin’,” he mutters absentmindedly, returning to his people-watching before you can think of a proper answer.

With a huff that goes willfully ignored, you lean back into him, nursing your cocktail. Reed and his damned patience, what a drag.

You count the time only by the amount of the songs that pass on their infinite loop. In the meantime, you amuse yourself by placing bets in your head. One of them holds a particular interest for you. You hold off for two more rounds of drinks before the boredom sets in fully, and you set to shorten your estimate.

How long will Reed’s resolve last if you decide to ruin it? As it turns out, not very. With every swig of alcohol, the anxious tension leaves Reed’s body, until he’s less of a support and more of a heavy weight canted against your back. It takes but the touch of your palm, resting just above his knee, for his attention to stray from the crowd more and more often, until he forgets Marco, and his retribution, altogether.

“Is someone impatient?” he drawls, badly concealing his own eagerness awoken by the promise of more that you tease him with. His voice is warm and thick with something other than just the liquor.

He’s buzzed, right on the path to being drunk. It’s different, inverse to the sight you remember from the last time. Back then, it pained you to see him like this. There’s a tug somewhere in your chest that you promptly dismiss. You know he wouldn’t appreciate the reminder. It’s a sore spot for him, and he’s always irrationally scared you’ll think less of him. As if you ever could.

Besides, the mood is great, you’d hardly want to ruin it. Not when he’s so soft, fingers playing with the edge of your jaw, uncaring about the people around you. His gaze on you is intent but playful, full of meaning when he murmurs, “I guess we do deserve a break.”

“It’s only been half an hour,” you drone, though your hand slides up his thigh, contradicting your feigned reticence.

“Eh, you know what they say.” The volume of his voice lowers unwittingly. The words drift off for a moment as he covers your hand with his, then slowly, pointedly pulls it higher along the inseam of his slacks. “Revenge is best served cold, and it’s much too—”

“Ugh, seriously...” Oh joy, you almost forgot how corny he gets when you fill him with a drink or two. You wish you could say his repertoire doesn’t work on you, that you've built up a semblance of resistance... Alas.

“—much too hot—”

“Reed, you—”

“Mhm, me too. I’m much too hot as—”

Foregoing your glass, you sacrifice your freed hand to grab a fistful of his shirt. Jerking him closer, you smother his blooming smirk under the crash of your lips, you effectively shutting him up.

The last bet you place, right before a flick of his tongue steals your mind completely, is simple. ‘Who will be the one to give in first?’ Well, you can imagine you’ll find yourself in the backseat of his car sooner than the song can end. Lady Luck is on your side today, and you’re ready to collect your prize.