Seventh Heaven's reincarnation was closed. If you'd noticed Tifa's face over the last few days, which Rude had--old habits die hard--you wouldn't be surprised. Reno was. He needed a fix--or a celebratory toast, if you bought his euphemism. There wasn't much to celebrate in getting your ass kicked and watching AVALANCHE and the ex-SOLDIER wipe Shin-Ra's backside, if you asked Rude's opinion, but no one did, and he wasn't giving it away for free.
"There're other places," said Rude. He was relieved; Seventh Heaven rubbed him the wrong way most days, but nothing they served there today would have tasted any good. It wasn't that he still felt anything for Tifa, exactly, but a man couldn't help being a little bitter. For old times' sake.
Reno sighed and shouldered his rod--Rude bent backwards to avoid it--and kicked petulantly at the door again. "Yeah, but it's all bootleg crap. And besides, they're dirty... Eh." He shrugged and ambled off with Rude in tow. The two Turks walked more slowly than usual, feeling the day's injuries. They ought to have gone straight to the Shin-Ra infirmary, Rude reflected once more, but at Reno's insistence, here they were. Why did Rude always listen, again?
Another watering hole stood, or rather slouched, not far away. Dingy and dilapidated outside, with live wires hanging from its smashed neon sign, The Dive--that was the actual name--looked worse on the inside. Rude couldn't decide whether the low lighting was a hazard or a mercy.
The bar was maybe fifteen yards deep and not quite as wide. The three other patrons were scattered among the tables. The Turks slid onto stools at the bar and ordered their drinks. It was quick; there were only two choices.
Reno took a swig from his glass, twitched, closed one eye, grimaced, and swallowed. The house brew was unidentifiable but strong as a kick to the nuts. "Such a relief that Tseng's back, yo."
"Disappointed?" Rude asked.
"Whaat, me?"
"Yeah. You were reliving old memories. Head of the Turks again."
Reno snorted and knocked back the rest of his glass. His eyes crossed. He slammed his glass down and signaled the bartender for a refill. "What Turks?" he asked. "With the cute one and the ugly one gone, there's only you and me, isn't there? No offense, but... well..." Reno turned his head to one side and gave Rude a sultry look. His bangs flopped into his drink. "There could be some fun to bein' the boss o'you, I guess."
Behind his glasses, Rude watched the red hair swirl in that glass of--whatever it was. Turpentine, maybe. He was waiting for Reno to notice, but rather than impending hilarity, he felt embarrassment. Reno never had the sense to be ashamed of his own cock-ups, so through some cosmic cross-wiring, Rude got to do it for him. Maybe it was delegation. Now why had Reno been named Number Two, again? Thank god Tseng was back.
Rude raised his hand to signal the bartender. "One water."
"I said..." said Reno, straightening up. His liquor-soaked bangs slapped him in the eye. "Waugh. That stings!"
The bartender set down a glass of water next to Rude's beer. Rude grabbed the hand Reno was using to claw at his eye and dipped the cuff of Reno's oversized shirt into the water. "Use that," he said.
Obediently, Reno clapped the wet cuff to his eye. "Ooh," he said. "Nice, sankyuu."
"Aa."
"No, seriously, though. I don't like people fucking with Turks, but even besides that, I'm glad Tseng's back, yo. He can be boss. I don't want the responsibility--it chafes. Who wants to stay up nights worrying about the little people? I wanna be done when I clock out, yo." Still holding his sleeve to his eye, Reno drained another half-glass of wood varnish and shuddered.
"When did you ever stay up nights worrying about Elena and me?"
"Oh, never. But I kinda felt bad that I didn't."
"That's very inspiring."
"I'm a responsible type o'guy, yo. But I'd rather not prove it."
"Uh-huh." Rude tried his beer. It tasted like piss. He set it down.
With unusual foresight, Reno wiped the moonshine off his bangs. "Why're you in such a funk, partner?" When Rude didn't answer immediately, he leaned forward, gave him his patented 'you can talk to me' face and said, "Really. Why?"
Poker-faced as always, Rude said, "Besides being tossed around and into buildings by a pair of Sephiroth clones, having a street sign dropped on my head and having you fall on me twice, brain me with your cattle prod, and crush my sunglasses?"
"But you're wearing--"
"Spare pair."
"Well, yeah, besides that."
"And besides letting AVALANCHE look like the good guys again."
"I think they might be the good guys. Er... heh... but, yeah, besides that?"
Rude lifted his glass and swirled the contents. "Besides wondering if I still have an intact liver and kidneys to run this through, and how many internal injuries are going to show up in my physical tomorrow?"
Reno wiped sweat from his brow with the heel of his hand and grinned uneasily. "Yeah?"
"Nothing."
"Well, then!" Reno exclaimed. "Life is good, drink up!"
Rude looked at him.
Reno laughed. "I thought for sure you'd mention the buxom barkeep in there," he said, with appropriate hand gestures.
Rude shrugged. "That's history."
"Really?" Reno narrowed his eyes shrewdly.
"Yeah. Ancient history."
Reno eyed him analytically a few moments more while Rude remained stone-faced but glad for his sunglasses--they made it easier to keep a straight face. "Well," said Reno, lifting his glass. "That's worth a toast in itself." He knocked one back.
"Why is it worth a toast?"
"Oh, you know. Milestone. Proud of ya. And besides... it means I can help. With your mood."
"Don't strain yourself, partner."
Reno smiled and glanced away. It was an odd smile, not his usual, but Rude had seen it once today already. "No, really. I can't compete with breasts like that, but if they're not what you're lookin' at--"
"You don't have breasts at all."
"Aw, c'mon, don't discriminate. I got other qualities."
"Ones I don't want to think about. Come on, ex-leader. Finish your paint-stripper and let's go. When I really start feeling everything that happened today, I want to be in my bed."
Reno lifted an eyebrow and opened his mouth, then shrugged and finished his drink. He gritted his teeth and hunched his shoulders against the bite. "God, that's awful stuff," he said, shaking his head. "Bleagh." He dug in his pockets and threw a few gil onto the counter to settle the tab. "Lezgo."
The sun was well down, now, and the lower temperature lent the air the illusion of freshness. The two men strolled along the streets that hadn't been blocked by debris from Bahamut's rampage, towards Headquarters and the Turks' barracks. Strolled, again, because neither had the energy for more speed. They walked in comfortable silence, Rude taking in the damage the summon had caused, wondering how soon it would be dealt with, and whether it would take Shin-Ra intervention.
They passed through the outer security of the Shin-Ra complex before Reno spoke. "Y'know, you'd really make a better Number Two. And a better Number One. Than me."
"Eh?"
"You're a Turk all the time." Reno was a little ahead, and spoke without looking back. "Even off the clock. I mean, it's just me because of seniority. Tseng's worked with me longer."
Rude shrugged, gesture lost on Reno's back.
"But it'd kick your ass, y'know. You would be up worrying all night. I know you."
"Eh."
They continued on towards the barracks. In front of the door, Reno stopped. "You like me at least a little."
"Ah?" said Rude, who was already imagining his bed in terms most romantic.
"Yeah. Otherwise, you wouldn't've caught me. Even after I brained ya with this." He hefted the taser-rod. Rude stepped back automatically.
He shrugged again. "You're my partner."
Reno turned around with that same smile, eyes crinkled. "I like it when you call me that."
Rude snorted. "So you haven't gotten too fond of 'boss?'"
"When'd you ever call me boss?"
"Never, but--"
"Nah. With you, it's partner." Reno grinned. "But, y'know, damn."
Rude waited.
"When I was boss, I never did abuse my authority. Wasted opportunity. I mean, if Tseng'd waited one more day to show up, then maybe... Well, maybe I'd've told you to stand real still."
Tired, bemused and oddly curious, Rude did. Reno took a step towards him, then another. The wary attentiveness of a circling boxer was in Reno's stance and movement. Not all the Turk bled out of him after hours, despite what he said. Another step brought him toe-to-toe with Rude. Reno rose onto his toes, slid his hands over Rude's shoulders and kissed him, quick, on the mouth. Then he was back, three steps away, tensed to move.
Rude remained still, trying to pinpoint his own reaction. It was slow in coming. All he managed to focus on was the sensation of brief warmth against his front and on his lips.
"Huh!" said Reno. "I thought you'd paste me one for sure."
"I'm tired, partner." Reno smiled that smile again. Rude was tempted to smile back. He was glad for the sunglasses. He shook his head. "Let's go to bed."
Reno's eyes rounded. "Together?"
Rude pushed him aside and opened the barracks door. "Don't push your luck."