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Taking Care of Business	By : Turkaholic Category: Final Fantasy VII > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 1121 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy VII, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 11
- 12
- 13
Note: Thank you for the reviews. It makes me insanely happy to know that people are still enjoying this as much as I am.

Chapter 12

So here I was: inside my pitch black apartment (apart from the crappy radioactive glow from the nearby Mako reactor), weaponless, dizzy as fuck with a bleeding skull, and someone - something - in the apartment with me. I had no idea where, whether they could see me, whether I was about to have my brains blown out across the peeling wallpaper.

As days go, this one wasn't turning out to be the best.

I tried to stay as still as possible, listening for anything apart from the hum of the reactor half a block away, and screeching tyres in the distance. It felt like the whole damn apartment was alive with noises - the drip of that stupid leaking kitchen tap, the clock ticking like a fucking time bomb on the wall... how the hell was I supposed to work out where this intruder was?

Not only that, but my head was getting worse by the second. There were lights flashing behind my eyes, and the makeshift dressing on my head wasn't working anymore - I could feel the blood starting to trickle down my forehead, along with enough nervous sweat to fill a couple of buckets.

Yeah, I'll admit it: I was frightened. Fuck it, I was so damn scared I was ready to crap my pants. Life or death goes with the job - I knew that from the minute I signed my soul over to Shinra - and I can deal with giving up my right to live to a ripe old age, but someone had tried to murder me way too many times today. My nerves were shot to fuck. I was about ready to curl up in a ball somewhere dark and quiet and start rocking to myself.

Well, I couldn't just stand here and wait for the bastards to find me. I took a deep (and quiet) breath, gulped down my fear, and walked into the bedroom. My EMR was lying at the side of the bed. If they had a gun, I was still fucked, but I might just be able to take the bastard with me.

"You're late, Reno."

There was a click. The light turned on. I shielded my eyes and tried not to let my heart escape out of my mouth.

Tseng.

He stood there next to the door, his long fingers on the light switch. He looked like he'd made himself comfortable - in shirtsleeves, his shirt unbuttoned for once, and that tie that was normally done up so damn tight it nearly strangled the guy was now undone, hanging around his neck. The bastard had a smirk on his face, as though frightening the shit out of me was somehow amusing as fuck. Son of a bitch.

The smirk fell off his face almost immediately though. His eyes flicked up to my bleeding head, and one of those rare looks of concern filtered onto his face. He blanched and mumbled my name. At least I think he did.

I sank to my knees, clinging to the doorway in some stupid attempt to stay upright. Unsurprisingly it didn't work. I fell forward, and everything faded to black.

***

I was lying on my back. I think. It was hard to work out where exactly I was, or why the hell I was there. Something was stinging the back of my throat like I'd just had acid poured down my damn throat. What the hell was that?

I answered my own question a second later: I sat up and hurled what felt like half my internal organs across the room. Attractive.

"Good morning to you, too."

I felt something soothing and cool against my head and sighed. Someone wrapped an arm up around my back. Someone whose touch made me feel like I'd just been tranquilised.

"Hey boss." I croaked. My head hurt like a bitch. I didn't want to open my eyes. I felt like if I did my eyes would probably fall out their damn sockets. "...what happened?"

There was a pause. Tseng stroked my hair gently out of my sweaty face. Even in... well, whatever state I was in... I still leaned in to the touch like the the pussy I am. I felt him lean into my ear. "I was going to ask you the same question." He muttered gently.

It was hard to think - ok, it was hard for me to make my brain work on the best of days, but right now it felt like someone had poured treacle in there. I forced myself to open my eyes.

I was lying on my own half-broken bed, covered in a clean sheet that Tseng had somehow made magically appear. In front of me was a bowl full of... yeah, let's just skip that part. My face no longer felt sticky with blood, and Tseng was leaning close over me, his hair tied back in a ponytail and those dark serious eyes full of concern and affection as he dabbed at my forehead with a wet towel.

"Bastard had a knife." I tried to explain. Tseng's brow furrowed, getting the wrong end of the stick. Having your head cracked open and the shit scared out of you doesn't make for great explainations. I gulped down the bile in my throat. "I mean... tried to knife me. Cracked my head open on the... fucking floor."

Well, that was the best explaination I could manage. Tseng's lip twitched a little.

"How very clumsy of you."

I knew Tseng well enough by now to know that this was his fucked up way of trying to make me feel better. I must have looked like hell, and projectile vomiting into a bowl didn't exactly make me feel like a sex machine, but still... I had to smirk a little at the concern - which, believe it or not, is what he was trying to say. Yeah, I know. Sometimes talking to Tseng felt like I was trying to learn another goddamn language.

"...Habit of a lifetime." I managed, trying to sound offhanded.

Then leaned forwards and threw up again.

Ugh. Maybe offhanded wasn't gonna work tonight.

Tseng frowned again, maybe he guessed that I was changing the subject, trying to avoid admitting I'd been a stupid dick and lost my gun. Do you blame me? I already felt like shit. Having a psychoticly angry Turk scolding me wasn't gonna make me feel better. He seemed to think so too, and started dressing whatever injury I had on my head - it occured to me I hadn't looked in a mirror since this crap had happened. I had no idea how badly I was hurt, but judging from Tseng's face, I was guessing it was pretty bad.

"How's it look, doc?" Tseng's eyes darted down from his work to mine. The reference wasn't lost on him. He 'hn'-ed his displeasure, not that it phased me - he was absently brushing his fingers over my forehead at the time. Not his most intimidating moment.

"Reno, you have a head wound, blood loss and concussion." He said sternly, but quietly. "How do you think it looks, you idiot?"

I closed my eyes as Tseng's fingers traced my aching head. He has this touch that just makes me fucking melt, no matter where I am or how pissed off at the guy I am, and he damn well knows it. Any idea how difficult it is to stay pissed at a guy who can make you turn to jello with his fingertips?

At this moment in time, though, I was glad about it. I smiled sedately like the sucker I am and let him finish cleaning me up.

"Y'know, this is becoming habit." I drawled tiredly.

"Hmmm?" I felt him draw back and sit on the edge of the bed, watching me.

"Well, you know. I get fucked up and you play doctor. I think ya like it."

Tseng laughed lowly. "I'm starting to think you do it on purpose." He muttered. I heard the rustle of clothes. He moved the really not pleasant bowl off the bed, apparently working out I was feeling better. The next second the guy had climbed into bed next to me, wrapping one of those smooth arms around my back and pulling me to lie on his chest. I sighed and let him, just enjoying the comfort.

Yeah, I know, for a hired hitman, I'm a pussy. I can shoot assholes all damn day without feeling anything except a sore trigger finger, but as soon as Tseng puts a hand on me, I melt into a puddle of damn jelly. Not exactly great for my reputation, is it?

"Reno, I'm sorry." Huh? I blinked my sore eyes open and looked up at Tseng. He was frowning again, staring up at the damp patches on my ceiling. "I should have called you before I came over."

I'd completely forgotten in all the concussion, blood and vomit - Tseng was normally mister Caution when it came to our extra-carricular activities. He had every damn right to be, too: If word got out that two of Shinra's most badass Turks were banging like two nymphos on viagra, it could seriously fuck up our reputation. But that wasn't the only reason.

We were being watched.

If there's one thing that Rufus psycho Shinra was good at, it was holding a grudge. Tseng was pretty sure the guy was using his money, keeping an eye on us, looking for something to use as leverage, so we had to be careful as hell. It meant meeting at stupid-o-clock at night, in random back-alleys; pretending to be going to each other's apartments to discuss work... anything to stop people guessing we were really screwing each other's brains out. Last night had been a risk. This was just fucking dangerous.

What the hell had made Tseng - a goddamn walking textbook on patience - throw the rules out the damn window?

I felt myself go dizzy again, this time not through the damn pain in my head. It just hit me that whatever was wrong, he'd come to me for comfort.

I tried not to let that thought make my brain explode in shock. "Something on your mind, boss?" I mumbled. Like the girl I am, I leaned in and kissed his chest tiredly. His lips twitched upward just a little, and his frown eased.

"I'll tell you in the morning."

"Fuck that." I snorted. Tseng's magic hands must have done the trick, 'cause I was feeling obnoxious again. "I'm concussed, Tseng, not brain damaged."

Tseng glared down at me playfully. "That's a matter of opinion." He growled.

Bastard. I kicked him with all the strength I had left, which - let's face it - was about the same amount of strength as an elderly stick-insect. He purred out an honest laugh and slid down the bed, face to face with me, looking at me scrutinizingly. "You really want to know?"

I nodded, trying to look as together as possible, even if I did feel like my brain was about to leak out of my damn head. He sighed. "Why are you so irritatingly stubborn?"

I couldn't help but grin, even though it made me feel like I was about to pass out again. "Hey, I had a great teacher."

Another glare, but I could already tell he'd made his mind up. He knew I wasn't gonna let him get away with being the stoic son of a bitch tonight. There was something bothering the guy, and if I had to threaten to bash my already fucked up head against the wall until he answered, I was gonna get the truth out of him.

"Fine." He growled, giving in... at fucking last. "I'll tell you." I opened my mouth in a question, but Tseng gave me that damn Icy stare and cut me off. "If, of course, you tell me exactly how you got that wound."

You know, I was really hoping that wouldn't come up. I didn't want to think what the hell Tseng was going to say when he found out I'd lost Lola. He'd probably rip my arms off and beat me to death with them, even if we were off duty.

Still... if Tseng was here, there was something serious going on. I could always pretend to pass out again, just to avoid having to answer til morning, but Tseng knew me too damn well - he knew I was way too nosey for my own good.

I gulped and nodded again.

Ah shit, he was gonna kill me.

Tseng sat up with a sigh, the humor gone suddenly from his face. "...I spent the evening researching, and I've worked out something. That man in the pawn shop... I couldn't place him before, but I know now. I finally know who the Wutaian is."
- 11
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- 13
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Taking Care of Business