Moogle Fluff: FFVII Fic, Reno/Elena
Title: Vigil
For: Moogle 4
Medium: Earwax Fic.
Request(s): FFVII, Reno/Elena, and, really, any other Turk who might want to show up.
Fandom(s): FFVII: OGC. I don't think it conflicts elsewhere, though.
Characters/Pairings: Reno, Elena, Rude, and Tseng. Reno/Elena.
Rating/Warnings: PG-13, mostly for foul language and Reno being... Reno.
Feedback: Happy squee or frothing rage; any which way you care.
Spoilers: Not unless you don't know who the Turks are.
Word Count: 1331
Summary: Reno's lost time affects everybody. But then, Reno doesn't really care.
Reno woke up dry, in an unfamiliar bathtub. His clothes were spattered in crusty blood... wasn’t his, which was probably a good sign. He didn’t feel hung over, although he hurt like hell and he couldn’t swallow properly. To make matters worse, his watch was gone.
He liked that watch.
Crawling out of his porcelain cocoon took far more effort than it should have. Stumbling out of the bathroom into a disheveled hotel room - yeah, he thought, has to be a hotel room - he drew himself together and checked the walls, checked the corners and the windows and the doors.
Paranoia kept a body alive.
Satisfied that nothing was going to kill him in the next two minutes, he flopped down onto the unmade bed. It hurt, but it gave a better perspective on things. Whatever had happened the night before, he missed it. Or he hit it, and it missed him.
What day is it, anyway? Tuesday? he wondered idly, Must be Tuesday.
Although, now that he stopped to think about it, he was probably late for work.
To hell with it, he decided, itching in his clothes. If they waited for him this long, they could stand to wait a little bit longer.
~-~-~
Elena could count on her hand the number of Turks defected and shot down by their own. Likewise, she could count the number of Turks that were confirmed dead in the line of duty, with their mugshots and mortuary records given out to recruits to know gritty reality of failure.
There were four missing in action. Like the others, she knew their names, and she knew their faces, and she remembered them, even though she didn’t want to. More than that, she didn’t want Reno to be the fifth.
He had ten minutes before he’d be officially labeled missing, and then there’d be an official investigation, as if no one would care otherwise, and then... they’d find him, or they wouldn’t. She wasn’t about to cry about it, even if the more she thought about it, the more her eyes stung.
Turks didn’t mourn - they got even.
That didn’t change the fact that it hurt, like a ghost to the chest. The icy grip of fingers closed tight around her heart, squeezing in time to every beat.
Across the room, Tseng’s façade of indifference deteriorated as his most recent glance at the clock became quiet attentiveness to the seconds ticking away. At the window, Rude moved to rub his eyes, and wound up staring at the glasses in his hand.
One minute, four seconds.
She didn’t want to watch anymore. She wasn’t going to cry; she just wasn’t.
Forty-three seconds.
She curled up in her chair, ragged on the edges like an autumn leaf.
Twelve seconds.
“Hey, Tseng!”
It wasn’t happening.
Reno waltzed into the office, a clip of paper in one hand, rattling a sucker between his teeth. He paused to study the open door, curious, before catching sight of Rude, in all his barefaced glory. His partner’s apparent shock was almost enough to send him running in the opposite direction.
“Whoa,” he wondered aloud, morbidly intrigued, “Who the fuck died?”
He looked for Elena first - if anyone had tripped up, he halfheartedly expected it to be her. But she was sitting in one of Tseng’s ‘make yourself at home,’ office business chairs, staring at him in much the way Rude was. And she was starting to sniffle up big time.
But, hey, all things considered, she was okay. Rude, no, and Tseng was putting on his business-as-normal casual boss-man, so Reno decided that asking was, perhaps, the wrong thing to have done.
“Right. Anyway. Tseng, you might want to take a look at this.” He dropped the report on the desk and, waving about the room with his candy in hand, took his leave, “I’m taking the day off; I’ve had a bad weekend and my ass hurts.”
Halfway to the elevator, Elena caught up with him, cutting him off in the middle of the hallway. He wasn’t sure what she wanted, but her makeup was starting to run with fresh tears. He didn’t know what to say to that.
“No. Bad Elena. Mine,” he growled, holding his arm back to keep the sucker well out of her reach. “You can’t have any.”
Maybe if she asks nicely, he amended, but instead she kissed him.
Kissed him, kissed him.
And, yeah, it was nice, in a virtuous, Elena kind of way. Or an Elena being naughty and cavorting with her coworker kind of way, which he liked the mental image of. But he didn’t know what to say to that either. So he licked his lip, at a complete loss. “I dig.”
Apparently that was the wrong thing to say, because she turned away abruptly. As if, he scoffed, he couldn’t see her sobbing if she wasn’t looking directly at him.
...Although, from this angle, he could see down her shirt, and she did have a nice-
Before he knew it, Reno was on the floor, pain lancing up his spine. Damn, the runt was emotional; he wouldn’t have expected a physical outburst from her... she generally had more poise than that. He stuck the candy in his mouth, and looked up in time with Rude’s offering him a hand up. It was an offer he took, conditionally.
“If you kiss me, I’m signing you off as my partner,” he warned as he was hauled from the floor. Instead, his partner crushed him in a bearhug that left his vision swimming.
“Is that a new suit?” Rude asked, stepping back to give him a once-over.
“Yeah, do you like it?” Reno had no problem modeling himself out for a good company, and did so with an enthusiastic spin.
“It’s nice,” the Rude admitted, before making his way towards the elevator. “Welcome back.”
“Er... sure.”
As far as Tseng was concerned... to that, Reno had a flat out answer. “No.”
As things stood, Tseng was a businessman, and understood these kinds of feelings.
“I suggest you stop by medical, if you’re so... out of shape, shall we say?”
Without another word, his superior passed him by. Which left just him, and Elena hiding herself in the corner with a plastic houseplant. Whatever hit them, hit her hardest. Sure, they’d get over it, except for that little part of him hating to see her so broken up about anything. He crept up behind her, trying to find the proper angle from which to hold such a delicate conversation.
Or stare at her chest. Same difference.
“What the hell’s the matter with everyone?” Reno nearly said you. That would have been good of him. The way she stared at him, he pondered over whether this was a womanly thing... Ergo, whether to avoid it entirely.
“It’s Thursday,” she said.
“That so?” he didn’t even pretend to care.
“It’s Thursday, Reno.”
“And, what, you trying to replace my wall calendar?”
She turned back to the corner, and he sighed in dramatic impatience. It didn’t help, but she was peeking at him from under the shadow of her bangs; at least he had her attention.
“Alright, here, want it?” he offered, waving the candy about temptingly, “It’s dewberry.”
Nothing but a sniffle. Not only was she being uncooperative, she was insulting his second favorite berry in the process.
“Okay, look - I’m trying to win with you here,” he admitted, “What should I do? Can I cheat? Because I like games where I can cheat. You know that, right? Bam! I’m caught for five aces, and I love it.”
Elena smiled, ever slightly, and even if she was still trying to be mad at him for whatever, it was good enough for him.
“Great.” He kissed her cheek and spun on his heel, almost instantly regretting the taste and texture of Shinra brand mascara. “See you tomorrow.” On his escape, he called over his shoulder, “That’d be Friday, right?”
--cut on the dotted line--
Notes: ... Character death without the death. ^^;
For: Moogle 4
Medium: Earwax Fic.
Request(s): FFVII, Reno/Elena, and, really, any other Turk who might want to show up.
Fandom(s): FFVII: OGC. I don't think it conflicts elsewhere, though.
Characters/Pairings: Reno, Elena, Rude, and Tseng. Reno/Elena.
Rating/Warnings: PG-13, mostly for foul language and Reno being... Reno.
Feedback: Happy squee or frothing rage; any which way you care.
Spoilers: Not unless you don't know who the Turks are.
Word Count: 1331
Summary: Reno's lost time affects everybody. But then, Reno doesn't really care.
Reno woke up dry, in an unfamiliar bathtub. His clothes were spattered in crusty blood... wasn’t his, which was probably a good sign. He didn’t feel hung over, although he hurt like hell and he couldn’t swallow properly. To make matters worse, his watch was gone.
He liked that watch.
Crawling out of his porcelain cocoon took far more effort than it should have. Stumbling out of the bathroom into a disheveled hotel room - yeah, he thought, has to be a hotel room - he drew himself together and checked the walls, checked the corners and the windows and the doors.
Paranoia kept a body alive.
Satisfied that nothing was going to kill him in the next two minutes, he flopped down onto the unmade bed. It hurt, but it gave a better perspective on things. Whatever had happened the night before, he missed it. Or he hit it, and it missed him.
What day is it, anyway? Tuesday? he wondered idly, Must be Tuesday.
Although, now that he stopped to think about it, he was probably late for work.
To hell with it, he decided, itching in his clothes. If they waited for him this long, they could stand to wait a little bit longer.
~-~-~
Elena could count on her hand the number of Turks defected and shot down by their own. Likewise, she could count the number of Turks that were confirmed dead in the line of duty, with their mugshots and mortuary records given out to recruits to know gritty reality of failure.
There were four missing in action. Like the others, she knew their names, and she knew their faces, and she remembered them, even though she didn’t want to. More than that, she didn’t want Reno to be the fifth.
He had ten minutes before he’d be officially labeled missing, and then there’d be an official investigation, as if no one would care otherwise, and then... they’d find him, or they wouldn’t. She wasn’t about to cry about it, even if the more she thought about it, the more her eyes stung.
Turks didn’t mourn - they got even.
That didn’t change the fact that it hurt, like a ghost to the chest. The icy grip of fingers closed tight around her heart, squeezing in time to every beat.
Across the room, Tseng’s façade of indifference deteriorated as his most recent glance at the clock became quiet attentiveness to the seconds ticking away. At the window, Rude moved to rub his eyes, and wound up staring at the glasses in his hand.
One minute, four seconds.
She didn’t want to watch anymore. She wasn’t going to cry; she just wasn’t.
Forty-three seconds.
She curled up in her chair, ragged on the edges like an autumn leaf.
Twelve seconds.
“Hey, Tseng!”
It wasn’t happening.
Reno waltzed into the office, a clip of paper in one hand, rattling a sucker between his teeth. He paused to study the open door, curious, before catching sight of Rude, in all his barefaced glory. His partner’s apparent shock was almost enough to send him running in the opposite direction.
“Whoa,” he wondered aloud, morbidly intrigued, “Who the fuck died?”
He looked for Elena first - if anyone had tripped up, he halfheartedly expected it to be her. But she was sitting in one of Tseng’s ‘make yourself at home,’ office business chairs, staring at him in much the way Rude was. And she was starting to sniffle up big time.
But, hey, all things considered, she was okay. Rude, no, and Tseng was putting on his business-as-normal casual boss-man, so Reno decided that asking was, perhaps, the wrong thing to have done.
“Right. Anyway. Tseng, you might want to take a look at this.” He dropped the report on the desk and, waving about the room with his candy in hand, took his leave, “I’m taking the day off; I’ve had a bad weekend and my ass hurts.”
Halfway to the elevator, Elena caught up with him, cutting him off in the middle of the hallway. He wasn’t sure what she wanted, but her makeup was starting to run with fresh tears. He didn’t know what to say to that.
“No. Bad Elena. Mine,” he growled, holding his arm back to keep the sucker well out of her reach. “You can’t have any.”
Maybe if she asks nicely, he amended, but instead she kissed him.
Kissed him, kissed him.
And, yeah, it was nice, in a virtuous, Elena kind of way. Or an Elena being naughty and cavorting with her coworker kind of way, which he liked the mental image of. But he didn’t know what to say to that either. So he licked his lip, at a complete loss. “I dig.”
Apparently that was the wrong thing to say, because she turned away abruptly. As if, he scoffed, he couldn’t see her sobbing if she wasn’t looking directly at him.
...Although, from this angle, he could see down her shirt, and she did have a nice-
Before he knew it, Reno was on the floor, pain lancing up his spine. Damn, the runt was emotional; he wouldn’t have expected a physical outburst from her... she generally had more poise than that. He stuck the candy in his mouth, and looked up in time with Rude’s offering him a hand up. It was an offer he took, conditionally.
“If you kiss me, I’m signing you off as my partner,” he warned as he was hauled from the floor. Instead, his partner crushed him in a bearhug that left his vision swimming.
“Is that a new suit?” Rude asked, stepping back to give him a once-over.
“Yeah, do you like it?” Reno had no problem modeling himself out for a good company, and did so with an enthusiastic spin.
“It’s nice,” the Rude admitted, before making his way towards the elevator. “Welcome back.”
“Er... sure.”
As far as Tseng was concerned... to that, Reno had a flat out answer. “No.”
As things stood, Tseng was a businessman, and understood these kinds of feelings.
“I suggest you stop by medical, if you’re so... out of shape, shall we say?”
Without another word, his superior passed him by. Which left just him, and Elena hiding herself in the corner with a plastic houseplant. Whatever hit them, hit her hardest. Sure, they’d get over it, except for that little part of him hating to see her so broken up about anything. He crept up behind her, trying to find the proper angle from which to hold such a delicate conversation.
Or stare at her chest. Same difference.
“What the hell’s the matter with everyone?” Reno nearly said you. That would have been good of him. The way she stared at him, he pondered over whether this was a womanly thing... Ergo, whether to avoid it entirely.
“It’s Thursday,” she said.
“That so?” he didn’t even pretend to care.
“It’s Thursday, Reno.”
“And, what, you trying to replace my wall calendar?”
She turned back to the corner, and he sighed in dramatic impatience. It didn’t help, but she was peeking at him from under the shadow of her bangs; at least he had her attention.
“Alright, here, want it?” he offered, waving the candy about temptingly, “It’s dewberry.”
Nothing but a sniffle. Not only was she being uncooperative, she was insulting his second favorite berry in the process.
“Okay, look - I’m trying to win with you here,” he admitted, “What should I do? Can I cheat? Because I like games where I can cheat. You know that, right? Bam! I’m caught for five aces, and I love it.”
Elena smiled, ever slightly, and even if she was still trying to be mad at him for whatever, it was good enough for him.
“Great.” He kissed her cheek and spun on his heel, almost instantly regretting the taste and texture of Shinra brand mascara. “See you tomorrow.” On his escape, he called over his shoulder, “That’d be Friday, right?”
--cut on the dotted line--
Notes: ... Character death without the death. ^^;