Fic: Worst Moment (Elena, Reno, Rude, Tseng; worksafe)
Worst Moment
It took three margaritas to take the edge off the fight.
Final Fantasy VII, Turks. 500 words.
Worksafe.
It took three margaritas to take the edge off the fight, and still Reno's leg was twitching in the uneven rhythm that meant that he was wired to the gills. Rude's sunglasses had drifted so far down his nose one could very nearly even see his eyes, Elena had busied herself licking the salt off the rim of her glass, and even Tseng had consented to remove his tie and unbutton the top button of his shirt.
"So," Elena said, "I hear you two really got your asses handed to you by those remnants."
Reno flipped her off. Rude's contribution was somewhat more eloquent: "So did you, if I remember correctly."
"Yeah." She licked some salt off a knuckle and grinned. "But I didn't, at any point, hit Tseng in the head with my weapon."
"Hey!" Reno said, briefly irritable, and then -- and this was definitely worse -- the smug expression faded to something more calculating. He poured himself another glass from the pitcher. "Well, if we're recounting not-our-brightest-moment memories..."
Elena froze, alcohol-haze notwithstanding.
"Let's see," Reno continued. "Was it the time you wound up tied upside-down with that ninja brat? And then the Don chose her instead of you? What happened to your skills, El?"
"Oh, fuck you," she said, but she sounded... well, relieved. Tseng arched an eyebrow and looked at Rude.
Rude smiled a little, smooth-masked by his glasses. "I don't think that's her least-favorite low moment," he said.
"Don't," Elena said with as much menace as she could manage, but that wasn't a whole lot, given the wedge of lime in one hand and the margarita in the other.
"Oh, yeah," Reno said, ignoring her completely. "Her worst moment has to be the time she went after Cloud up north -- "
"Come on, that's not fair, Cloud beat Sephiroth, you can't expect me to have -- "
" -- and tried to hit him, and he just stepped out of the way and she bounced all the way to the bottom of the hill, snow up her nose and everything." Reno's glee was accompanied by a heavy waft of tequila breath. Rude wrinkles his nose.
Elena sighed. "Yeah, okay," she said, "and I was fishing ice out of my shirt for hours, thank you very much, and as if that wasn't enough to put up with, you're never going to let me live it down."
"Nope," Reno said cheerfully. He gave Tseng a pointed look, and then spread his arms wide and declared, "What's better is why she -- "
Elena took the opportunity to elbow his margarita glass into his lap. Reno broke off with a yelp and splutter, and sprang to his feet, raining ice all over the floor. "What the fuck was that?" he demanded.
"A cover-up," Elena said. "Turk style. I have learned a few things since I was a rookie." She smirked at him, and drained her own glass. To ward off retaliation, of course.
It took three margaritas to take the edge off the fight.
Final Fantasy VII, Turks. 500 words.
Worksafe.
It took three margaritas to take the edge off the fight, and still Reno's leg was twitching in the uneven rhythm that meant that he was wired to the gills. Rude's sunglasses had drifted so far down his nose one could very nearly even see his eyes, Elena had busied herself licking the salt off the rim of her glass, and even Tseng had consented to remove his tie and unbutton the top button of his shirt.
"So," Elena said, "I hear you two really got your asses handed to you by those remnants."
Reno flipped her off. Rude's contribution was somewhat more eloquent: "So did you, if I remember correctly."
"Yeah." She licked some salt off a knuckle and grinned. "But I didn't, at any point, hit Tseng in the head with my weapon."
"Hey!" Reno said, briefly irritable, and then -- and this was definitely worse -- the smug expression faded to something more calculating. He poured himself another glass from the pitcher. "Well, if we're recounting not-our-brightest-moment memories..."
Elena froze, alcohol-haze notwithstanding.
"Let's see," Reno continued. "Was it the time you wound up tied upside-down with that ninja brat? And then the Don chose her instead of you? What happened to your skills, El?"
"Oh, fuck you," she said, but she sounded... well, relieved. Tseng arched an eyebrow and looked at Rude.
Rude smiled a little, smooth-masked by his glasses. "I don't think that's her least-favorite low moment," he said.
"Don't," Elena said with as much menace as she could manage, but that wasn't a whole lot, given the wedge of lime in one hand and the margarita in the other.
"Oh, yeah," Reno said, ignoring her completely. "Her worst moment has to be the time she went after Cloud up north -- "
"Come on, that's not fair, Cloud beat Sephiroth, you can't expect me to have -- "
" -- and tried to hit him, and he just stepped out of the way and she bounced all the way to the bottom of the hill, snow up her nose and everything." Reno's glee was accompanied by a heavy waft of tequila breath. Rude wrinkles his nose.
Elena sighed. "Yeah, okay," she said, "and I was fishing ice out of my shirt for hours, thank you very much, and as if that wasn't enough to put up with, you're never going to let me live it down."
"Nope," Reno said cheerfully. He gave Tseng a pointed look, and then spread his arms wide and declared, "What's better is why she -- "
Elena took the opportunity to elbow his margarita glass into his lap. Reno broke off with a yelp and splutter, and sprang to his feet, raining ice all over the floor. "What the fuck was that?" he demanded.
"A cover-up," Elena said. "Turk style. I have learned a few things since I was a rookie." She smirked at him, and drained her own glass. To ward off retaliation, of course.