Rufus Makes A Friend - Rufus, Sephiroth, Tseng - G
Title: Rufus Makes A Friend (Or: Sephiroth Hates Parties [Or: Tseng Comes That Much Closer To An Early Grave])
Rating: G, for adorable children!
Fandom/Pairing: FFVII, gen
Word Count: 672
Summary: A young Sephiroth and an even younger Rufus Shinra meet at a ShinRa Electrical Company formal party. They get along. Tseng... gets mindwhammied by small children.
Disclaimer: Square Enix owns Sephiroth, Rufus, Tseng, and the whole damn planet!
Warnings: Little kids!
Sephiroth decided at the ripe old age of six that he despised formal events. And ties. And dress shirts. Especially dress shirts. When this was over with he was going to burn the whole outfit and not all of Gast’s protests were going to stop him.
He sulked in a corner, behind a large potted plant. He wanted his sword. He wanted material. He would have preferred the injections to this.
Then someone dared to interrupt his sulking. Everyone knew that was a bad idea.
“Good evening.” A little voice peeped behind him. “I’m Rufus Shinra, the president’s son.” Sephiroth clenched his little fist.
“My father says someday I’m gonna own the whole company,” the boy peeped again. Sephiroth turned towards him, noticing that he was two heads taller.
“He says you’re part of the company. He says you’re part of the Gee… the … This project he owns.” The boy obviously was stupid if he couldn’t pronounce Jenova. Sephiroth’s first word had been Jenova. It had been recorded.
Sephiroth glared at the boy. They were about the same age, or so he’d heard, but he was so much taller than this pipsqueak. The boy stared at him, then wrinkled his nose and looked away and sighed in frustration.
“That means someday I’m going to own you,” he peeped. He paused for a moment and then drawled out a high-pitched “Duh.” Up towards Sephiroth’s face.
“Not if I kill you first,” Sephiroth said, forcing his voice to be low and menacing. The boy’s eyes widened.
“Y-you’ve killed somebody?” He gaped.
"Of course,” Sephiroth said, crossing his arms over his chest, suddenly aware that this suit jacket was way too tight. He really hated dress clothes.
“Really?” the boy asked in awe.
“Yeah.” Sephiroth couldn’t help but smile.
“Oh man that is so cool.” Rufus was bouncing up and down on his heels.
“Would you kill someone for me someday?” the boy pleaded.
“Maybe,” Sephrioth replied smoothly. “If you asked nicely and got me a cooler sword. A bigger one.”
“No problem!” Rufus peeped, his voice leaping even higher. “I can buy you one right now!” This time it was Sephiroth who boggled.
“Really?!” he asked, leaning forward, suddenly filled with quivering desire.
“Well, duh,” Rufus peeped.
Then the were interrupted. Oh, Sephiroth didn’t have anymore words for how much his did not like formal dinners. It was a tall Wutai man in a suit. He had a mark on his forehead that Sephiroth recognized from his cultural education tapes as a mark of shunning. Sephiroth smirked in his knowledge.
“There you are!” the man gasped, grabbing Rufus up in his arms. “Never do that again. Or, Shinra or not, I will gut you like the brat you are.” It was a rough, brash threat that made Rufus stick his tongue out, almost into the poor exasperated man’s ear.
“Oh,” He paused. “You’ve made a friend.” The bodyguard didn’t sound pleased.
“Tell me this isn’t Sephiroth of the Jenova Project.” The TURK groaned. “Please tell me this isn’t Hojo’s little pet project.”
There was one thing Sephiroth hated more than formal events and that was being talked about like that. It made his fingers twitch for his sword or, really, any sharp object at all.
“It’s not,” Rufus snapped. “He’s my friend. Father said we could go to my suite and play and then you’re supposed to take us shopping. His name is Gene.”
The bodyguard looked at him with a hard glare. Rufus stared it down. Finally the man broke down and started carrying Rufus off in his arms. Rufus stuck his blonde head over the man’s shoulder.
“Come on Gene,” he peeped. “You should see the sword Tseng bought me when he lost me in Wall Market this one time. It’s really big!” Sephiroth giggled when the man clutching Rufus visibly twitched. Sephiroth started walking after them, pulling off his jacket, then his tie, then his expensive dress shirt. Hopefully this Tseng was a smoker, or was close friends with one.
Yeah, I know I'm insane. I blame Franz Ferdinand.
Rating: G, for adorable children!
Fandom/Pairing: FFVII, gen
Word Count: 672
Summary: A young Sephiroth and an even younger Rufus Shinra meet at a ShinRa Electrical Company formal party. They get along. Tseng... gets mindwhammied by small children.
Disclaimer: Square Enix owns Sephiroth, Rufus, Tseng, and the whole damn planet!
Warnings: Little kids!
Sephiroth decided at the ripe old age of six that he despised formal events. And ties. And dress shirts. Especially dress shirts. When this was over with he was going to burn the whole outfit and not all of Gast’s protests were going to stop him.
He sulked in a corner, behind a large potted plant. He wanted his sword. He wanted material. He would have preferred the injections to this.
Then someone dared to interrupt his sulking. Everyone knew that was a bad idea.
“Good evening.” A little voice peeped behind him. “I’m Rufus Shinra, the president’s son.” Sephiroth clenched his little fist.
“My father says someday I’m gonna own the whole company,” the boy peeped again. Sephiroth turned towards him, noticing that he was two heads taller.
“He says you’re part of the company. He says you’re part of the Gee… the … This project he owns.” The boy obviously was stupid if he couldn’t pronounce Jenova. Sephiroth’s first word had been Jenova. It had been recorded.
Sephiroth glared at the boy. They were about the same age, or so he’d heard, but he was so much taller than this pipsqueak. The boy stared at him, then wrinkled his nose and looked away and sighed in frustration.
“That means someday I’m going to own you,” he peeped. He paused for a moment and then drawled out a high-pitched “Duh.” Up towards Sephiroth’s face.
“Not if I kill you first,” Sephiroth said, forcing his voice to be low and menacing. The boy’s eyes widened.
“Y-you’ve killed somebody?” He gaped.
"Of course,” Sephiroth said, crossing his arms over his chest, suddenly aware that this suit jacket was way too tight. He really hated dress clothes.
“Really?” the boy asked in awe.
“Yeah.” Sephiroth couldn’t help but smile.
“Oh man that is so cool.” Rufus was bouncing up and down on his heels.
“Would you kill someone for me someday?” the boy pleaded.
“Maybe,” Sephrioth replied smoothly. “If you asked nicely and got me a cooler sword. A bigger one.”
“No problem!” Rufus peeped, his voice leaping even higher. “I can buy you one right now!” This time it was Sephiroth who boggled.
“Really?!” he asked, leaning forward, suddenly filled with quivering desire.
“Well, duh,” Rufus peeped.
Then the were interrupted. Oh, Sephiroth didn’t have anymore words for how much his did not like formal dinners. It was a tall Wutai man in a suit. He had a mark on his forehead that Sephiroth recognized from his cultural education tapes as a mark of shunning. Sephiroth smirked in his knowledge.
“There you are!” the man gasped, grabbing Rufus up in his arms. “Never do that again. Or, Shinra or not, I will gut you like the brat you are.” It was a rough, brash threat that made Rufus stick his tongue out, almost into the poor exasperated man’s ear.
“Oh,” He paused. “You’ve made a friend.” The bodyguard didn’t sound pleased.
“Tell me this isn’t Sephiroth of the Jenova Project.” The TURK groaned. “Please tell me this isn’t Hojo’s little pet project.”
There was one thing Sephiroth hated more than formal events and that was being talked about like that. It made his fingers twitch for his sword or, really, any sharp object at all.
“It’s not,” Rufus snapped. “He’s my friend. Father said we could go to my suite and play and then you’re supposed to take us shopping. His name is Gene.”
The bodyguard looked at him with a hard glare. Rufus stared it down. Finally the man broke down and started carrying Rufus off in his arms. Rufus stuck his blonde head over the man’s shoulder.
“Come on Gene,” he peeped. “You should see the sword Tseng bought me when he lost me in Wall Market this one time. It’s really big!” Sephiroth giggled when the man clutching Rufus visibly twitched. Sephiroth started walking after them, pulling off his jacket, then his tie, then his expensive dress shirt. Hopefully this Tseng was a smoker, or was close friends with one.
Yeah, I know I'm insane. I blame Franz Ferdinand.