Happy Birthday was made for you

Reno manages a bitter chuckle at Rude's displeasure and he watches the tinsel's progression to the floor with something like justified amusement. The thought of a good stiff drink with Rude sounds inviting and if it means not seeing any decorations, then all the better. He seems to brighten, if only slightly, and he follows Rude out the door and down the hall.

He doesn't say much till they're walking out to the car where he pauses and looks between his beat to hell old school muscle car and Rude's shiny truck. He knows he probably won't be able to drive home if he winds up having too much tonight, a distinct possibility considering the day, but the idea of what would happen if he should throw up in Rude's truck is the stuff of nightmares and it leaves him stuck trying to decide between the two. "Uh...mine 'er yours?"

"Mine," is Rude's immediate answer. The last time he attempted to interact with Reno's mechanical beast, he'd had to contort to ridiculous angles to fit in the blasted seat, it had smelled like something died in the back, and his coat had gotten caught in a spring sticking out of the side of the seat, rending a great big hole in it.

He never wanted to pummel the daylights out of an inanimate object in his life until he met Reno's car. Apparently Reno's presence has marked a lot of firsts for Rude. He turns to walk to his own truck, immaculate and massive as its owner, and runs a gloved hand appreciatively over the roof of the camper before unlocking the doors and sliding into the pil... driver's seat.

One of these days, he needs to overcome his need for routines long enough to force Reno to a carwash and at least clean out the interior. Rude grunts quietly at this contemplation and turns in his seat to reach behind the passenger seat and pull a small package in plain brown paper, with a bluish green ribbon tied very badly around it, depositing the affair on the redhead's lap before he starts the truck without a word.

Rude is not adept at wrapping gifts, announcing them or reacting to someone receiving them. Inside, a new leather wrist strap for Reno's EMR is looped around a shot glass from a bar in Junon Rude remembers Reno talking about almost nonstop when they were first partnered up- and the first time Rude ever saw Reno down in the dumps was when that bar closed down.

When you're diligent and have a memory as good as Rude's, you have no problem finding things like these. It just takes persistence. He's not at all sure any of this is pertinent to Reno's interests or wishes, not being the type to ask what people want for this celebration or that.

He took a chance on these things knowing that Reno may not even like them, or would be plagued with memories he'd rather avoid. It seems much more personal, however, than something like a new shirt or a skin magazine.

Reno isn't about to argue over which car to take. If Rude is willing to drive, then all the better. It will let him get as plastered as he likes without feeling guilty that he'll be bumming a ride later...of course, he's still gonna feel pretty bad if he hurls on Rude's seats and he makes a mental note to roll down the window if he gets that drunk as he watches Rude baby the truck.

The way he runs a gloved hand over the camper makes the muscles in Reno's stomach twitch and he isn't quite sure why. It happens around Rude from time to time and has gotten more progressive as time goes on. It only happens with Rude though. Reno muses over the whole thing as he climbs into the passenger side of the truck, carefully shutting the door so it doesn't slam and make Rude wince like he's done almost every time in the past.

Rude is being nice enough to drive him and is, for some reason Reno can't quite figure, apparently in a mood to go out...and take Reno with him, a fact which Reno is surprisingly grateful for.

As he pulls the seatbelt in place a weight is dropped into his lap and Reno freezes as he looks up to see a small brown package. It's conspicuously absent of any red, green, or white bows, tinsel, garland, or gaudy paper which leaves the redhead a bit confused.

Was this some early Solstice gift and Rude simply didn't know how to wrap something? He didn't figure the big guy for having much in the way of social graces when it came to gift giving, hell, having a conversation with Rude about anything to do with social skills was like pulling teeth sometimes, despite the man's intense politeness to almost everyone.

Rude's polite manners were usually reserved for folks he didn't know though and he was just as comfortable shooting someone as saying "excuse me". Reno blinks slowly a couple of times and stares at the box before he remembers to click the belt into position.

He doesn't touch it yet, opting to simply stare at it bewildered before he looks up slowly at Rude from the corner of his eye as if half afraid the box might explode. "Uh....partner? What's....what's this?"

Rude doesn't answer at first, merely making his way out of the garage. After he swipes his ID badge through the machine that lets them onto the street, he glances at Reno and the package and nods, as if urging the man to open it.

"Something," he explains quietly as he turns into the street and drives them away from their daily doom, "that isn't for solstice." He'd rather not say 'a birthday present,' because that would reveal and cement the concept of Rude celebrating something.

Nothing and nobody is worth the effort of celebrating or choosing gifts for. Except, apparently, Reno. He grunts at himself again, asking his brain to kindly leave the topic alone, and fiddles with his stereo.

Soft and mournful jazz pipes out at first until he ejects the CD. He pulls another one from a clip pocket above his rearview mirror and inserts it, cringing when it starts playing the harsh sort of music Reno tends to play on his radio in the office.

Rude usually can't stand this sort of crap... but he has to agree with Reno that it's better than the holiday crap playing on just about every radio station in Midgar. 'What's the name of this band again?" he grinds out between his teeth, attempting to sound nonchalant.

Something was definitely not the norm in wonderland. Reno stares at Rude for a few more seconds before answering. "Totentanse." Confusion laces his voice as he looks from the radio to Rude and back.

Why was Rude being so nice to him? Sure, they were partners and all but....and then it hits him, Rude's words suddenly sink in and Reno stares again at the present in his lap. Not for Solstice. Rude got him a...but how did he know? Reno almost isn't sure what to do at first and he blames the last vestiges of the whiskey chaser he had for lunch as he plucks uncertainly at the bow.

Reno casts a look over at Rude again, watching him from the corner of his eye like a wary animal that's been hit too many times, as he opens the bow and the wrapping. It's not like Rude hasn't ever been nice to him before, they've been partners for a year now, but the larger Turk has never done anything like this before, nothing this out of his way just to make Reno happy, and the redhead isn't quite sure what to make of it.

He turns back to the package, tearing off the brown paper in earnest and cussing Rude's over exuberant use of packing tape. "Fuck, Rude. Did'ja actually want me to get in it?" he grumbles as he pulls off the last bit and opens the box, "Or did'ja just wanna.....watch...me......." Reno's words fall away as he stares at the contents inside.

He picks up the leather strap in one hand and the shot glass in the other, uncertain which one he wants to look at first. His own leather EMR strap had broken recently, Rude had been there when it'd happened, and Reno remembers cussing himself a blue streak when the dog he'd been fighting off caught the strip in its mouth and tore it to ribbons.

He had been so angry that day. Since then, he'd been meaning to pick up a new one but just hadn't done it yet, opting instead to drive Rude batty by continuously bitching about how slippery they get when the handle's all bloody. Reno thumbs over the supple leather in his right hand; it's a beautiful shade of deep brown and has reinforced stitching every where. It's a really nice strap.

Reno gives it a fond lopsided smile, still in a little shock that this is happening and from Rude of all people. He finally tears his eyes to the other item in his left hand and at first he only sees the back side of the shot glass. He tosses it lightly in his hand to flip it, deft fingers catching the item as it comes down, and as his eyes lay on the ever so familiar logo on the front, he makes a small half strangled noise.

His favorite bar, The Moogle Reactor, had shut down a while ago. It had almost broken his heart. He'd done so much in that place, gotten into so many fights, and had frequented it so often that every single person in there knew him by name.

The small figure of a radioactively glowing Moogle waves up at him in obnoxious shades of green from the glass. Reno can't believe it. He'd been hunting for memorabilia from this place when they shut down but the new owner had thrown it all out without telling Reno where.

He'd spent a week hunting through the dumpster nearby to find any small keepsake from the bar but it was all gone. How Rude had managed to find this, Reno can't even begin to fathom but he chews his lip and blinks a few times at the sting in his eyes.

It's the alcohol, he tells himself. It's unmanly to cry over a fucking shot glass and he's NOT going to....dammit. Reno quickly wipes the stray wetness from his cheek and clears his throat in as manly a manner as possible. "'S...'s fucking cool, man. Where'd ya get this? I mean....fuck. I looked and looked. Damn, Rude. Thanks. Just...ya know....thanks."

Rude nods in acknowledgment, still trying to stomach the noise from his speakers and mentally apologizing to his truck for making it play the stuff. Maybe on a night he plans to drink alone and heavily, he'll listen to it in the throes of alcohol to see if he finds it any more appealing then.

He'd merely written song names as announced by Reno's radio for the past few weeks and compiled a CD of them to play when giving his partner rides as needed, to fend off the holiday spirit of the radio. When he turns to another street, he catches Reno's expression over the shot glass from the corner of his eye and keeps himself from smiling.

Something in his gut had told him pursuing that matter was a good idea. "The owner..." he starts, but it seems a little lugubrious a tale to tell for someone's birthday- how the owner had died, and Rude had tracked down a family member, using a healthy amount of his solstice bonus to buy the glass from her.

He'd told her it was extremely important, and to see the look on Reno's face, the backlash of nostalgia under the apparent sadness, is in fact extremely important to Rude, for some reason. To see a hint of a smile after the last week of upset is worth every penny, every hour of searching.

"I found it by luck," he glosses quietly, "and I remembered that you mentioned it often." His tone expects no thanks, and while it remains low and distant, holds a faint note of warmth in it. He is surprised when he finds himself resisting the urge to stroke through that abominable mess of hair and instead frowns at the road, turning once more.


"I know that... that you don't like the places I go… when I leave my house. But one of them is owned by a Wutaian who doesn't celebrate... the season. And his bar is impressive." It's more than Rude has said all week, really.

"He also plays a mean set of billiards," he adds, remembering that he picked that lounge for lack of decoration and because he remembers a good number of Reno's bar brawl stories starting around pool tables.


Reno grins over at Rude and even through the lack of sleep and the obvious drink he's had for lunch, a little bit of his old self shines through in that smile. It's all genuine and Reno chuckles as he puts the glass and strap reverently back into the box. It was....sweet? Yeah, sweet, of Rude to do all this just for him and Reno can't help but feel a little swell of warmth in his stomach.

He never thought there'd come a day when he'd ever describe Rude as "sweet" but all of this, the thought put into it, is enough to convince Reno that he wasn't wrong when he defended Rude to all the other Turks when they'd called him 'distant' and an 'asshole'. The words he'd said to them in return had almost gotten him on suspension for the rest of the day but they were all worth it in light of tonight.

Reno had never bothered to mention the comments to Rude. He holds the box in his lap, not willing to put it aside for all the world right now. It was the first real birthday present he'd received in years that hadn't been lumped in with the holiday and that simple fact alone elevated Rude another notch in Reno's book. He even resisted the urge to pop his feet up on the dash now that his mood had improved.

"Sounds good. Gee, Rudy, didn' know ya cared so much. Ya keep this up, an' yer gonna spoil me."