It’s Wednesday, and Wednesday means ‘chill day’ for the dynamic duo of the Turks. Reno always makes sure he has every Wednesday off for chill day - plus it manages to help with his perception of time too.
After arriving at Rude’s apartment (the nicer of the two available to them at any point), freshening up, dressing in comfortable clothing, and feeding themselves, the two men discard their phones on the table - one playing a slow serene track, the other obsolete for the moment - and dance together, slowly swaying off-tempo; Reno’s scrawny arms hoop around Rude’s broad shoulders and Rude’s strong arms holding Reno’s slender waist.
The subtle swaying itself is already working its magic as tension bleeds from their muscles, but a slow tingling sensation situated amongst Reno’s vermilion locks drain any further tension in his body. Small, slim form presses closer to big, broad strength as satisfied sonority resonates from tension-drained vocal chords.
Nothing else exists; the world only consists the two partners pressed together, swaying slow to sweet music sounding from elsewhere. Whisper of “Not fair,” passes through sleepy smiling lips as the smaller buries himself further into reassuring muscles and soft chuckle rumbles inside large chest as tan fingers proceed to mess with thick tresses of crimson.
Arms pull each body closer, taunting the world to try and tear them apart. It’s a chill Wednesday evening, and two men brought together by fate slow dance the night away until stars appear and swaying lulls one of them to sleep and soft snores fill the air.