Happy Birthday was made for you

Rude notes the smile, a warmth spreading from the pit of his chest. The only time other than now that he's felt such a thing was the night he'd given a small plate of hamburger bits to a puppy in the alley behind his apartment complex two weeks ago.

Slowly but surely, he returns the smile, and even though his is forced and alien, it stands just as genuinely. "...the paperwork is yours for a week after this," he rumbles after the initial glee from seeing Reno's expression dies down. It's hard to tell whether or not he's joking- and only Reno ever knows that he is, in fact, capable of joking to begin with.

He pulls into the parking lot of Chen's Blue Diamond and steadies into his regular space, taking a deep breath. He and the staff here have a good understanding- he's a regular, and he doesn't speak unless he absolutely has to. They know his usuals, and they've been helping him forget the holiday season exists for a good five years now.

He hopes that the sight of him speaking with Reno won't give them the idea that any of that has changed. He doesn't feel comfortable making such a concession to anyone just yet... with the exception of his partner. And he tells himself it’s because of Reno's birthday, though he knows any other day would harbor the same behavior and fear.

When Reno is out of the truck, Rude leads them through a somewhat shabby door into the lounge itself, decorated with black walls, blue carpet and dim blue and white lights. A tired-sounding woman sings huskily in tune with a piano from a stage in a caged area, and each table, surrounded by blue leather seats, harbors a small mako-fuse candle and menus.

A neatly trimmed host nods quietly upon their entrance and immediately leads them to a table near the back, slightly separate from the rest of the table setup of the place. Rude sits in one of the armchairs backed by a wall, and once Reno sits, he looks to the host and murmurs. "Scotch for my colleague... and my usual. Heat sake for us as well. No food yet."

The man nods again and disappears around a corner, which seems to hide most of a bar, a 'games' area and a cozy dance floor, empty for the holidays. Rude nods and pushes a menu over the table to his partner. "Anything that looks good," he offers quietly, still making no move to mention the occasion.

The menu, though small in the hand, offers items generally much finer than usually found in bars- seafood, fancy cuts of steak, Wutaian specialties, intricately prepared bits of beasts that are scarce in most part of the world, as well as the more standard fare people expect in Midgar- hamburgers, fried chocobo and the like. Rude has no idea what sort of food his partner eats beyond the sketchy takeout boxes of greasy fare that litter his desk until Rude pushes him to clean it.

Reno snorts in amusement but doesn't say anything when Rude mentions the paperwork. They both know full well that even if Reno tried, he'd get bored quickly and eventually Tseng would chew on them both till Rude picked up filling it all out again. Papers just aren't Reno's thing.

He leans forward as they pull into the parking space, craning his neck to see the neon blue diamond sign above the bar. It sheds a bright glow over the whole parking lot, it's bright blues chasing off the usual greens and reds of the season as if it were some beacon of refuge in this holiday sea everyone else is lost in.

Reno slides out of the truck and debates for a few seconds on bringing the box in with him; Rude's truck is the safest place in the world right now though so he opts at last to leave it settled on the seat in his absence.

He turns and follows Rude into the bar, eyes darting about to take in everything around him as they walk. The more he sees, the more he likes this place and there's a sense of being let in on a secret as they are led to their table. This is Rude's place as much as the Moogle Reactor was Reno's and that strange warmth in the pit of his stomach grows with the idea that he's getting to see some part of his partner that no one else does.

He feels...flattered, maybe? It's hard to put a word to the sensation but he shrugs it off and slides into the seat across from Rude. His eyes flick around the room constantly and a half smile is locked onto his face as he takes it all in. Oh yeah, if Rude doesn't mind, Reno could be perfectly happy coming here to drink from now on.

He leans back and lets his partner order them drinks, the guy certainly knows by now what Reno likes, and he contents himself instead with watching Rude's lips move when he talks. It's a rare enough occasion and there's something terribly fascinating about the way they move, how Rude can say so much by saying so little.

It isn't until Rude pushes the menu across to him that Reno realizes he's staring and he drops his gaze to the menu right away. What the hell is wrong with me? Why the fuck did Rude just become the most interesting thing in here. Fuck...fuck. Just...order something...like a LOT of booze and then stare at the singer's tits for a while.

Reno flips open the menu and looks over the whole thing, smirking at the selections listed in tiny rolling script. There are a lot of nice things here that he decides he'll have to try sometime but for now, he settles on a teriyaki zemzelette kabob that looks rather appetizing; it's a fair step up from the week old pizza he's been chowing on for dinner the last couple of days.

He glances back up at Rude as the waiter re-appears with their drinks and flips the menu shut to hand it back across. Somehow he doubts Rude will need it. It doesn't even dawn on him that Rude is picking up the tab here and he does the mental math to figure out if he's got enough in his account to pay for all this till next payday.

He figures if he doesn't buy any more beer till they get their pay on Tuesday, he should be fine and he offers his order to the expectant man that looks for all the world like he's got someplace else he'd rather be right now. Reno can't exactly blame the guy; the bar is almost dead with only Rude, himself, and two other patrons gracing it so tips can't be all that great tonight. Good old Solstice kicking the little guy again. Reno waits till Rude places his order and then watches the waiter leave.

He flicks his eyes to the stage and takes in the singer, she's got a nice enough rack, but he can't seem to bring himself to care much right now and that bothers him. Staring at a good pair of tits never failed to lift his spirits before, why aren't they doing anything for him now?

He sighs and turns back to Rude, giving up on trying to will his cock to find interest in her, and instead grins at Rude. "'S a nice place," he says glancing around again, "I take it ya come here pretty often, huh?" He casually drapes one arm over the back of his chair and slouches down into it, making himself as comfortable and relaxed as possible in a manner on Reno can pull off so flawlessly.


Rude doesn't generally have to look around when he comes here, already knowing and having appreciated the layout himself. He doesn't seem bored, however. He finds himself thankful for his shades, as his eyes seem to have the same problem Reno's do, to an extent- he can't keep them off his partner or the wall behind him.

Rude has never found attraction to be particularly useful, and set out to burn the flaw away from him a long time ago, or else he would be far more astute regarding the entire situation as well as the behavior of his vision. As it is, he merely assumes that wanting to look at the center of attention during a celebration is normal- wanting to catch their every expression and reaction.

Rude puts this train of thought from his mind when the waiter arrives, listening to Reno order- perhaps the birthday attention theory is the reason Rude finds himself waiting for Reno to speak and wanting to smooth the rough catches in his voice like one smoothes the ruffled patches of fur on a cat- and smiling at his choice of dinner.

Rude wonders if the man has ever TASTED that sort of meat before. Rude himself found the inherent tang of it unnerving, to say the least, and has never quite gathered himself to try it again since. The waiter turns to him. "Your usual, sir?" Rude nods.

While familiar with many of the dishes here, he's always had a preference to the adamantoise flanks, uncommon as it is- not because adamantoise are difficult to find, but they're hard as the nine hells to KILL. "And all on your tab file, sir?" Another nod, returned by the waiter, before the man disappears and Rude falls back to the comfort of quiet.

He watches Reno fidget and look around, not letting the attitude agitate him. He knew Reno wouldn't be very comfortable in such a setting; the redhead always seems to need to either be moving or lazing. He feels bad for dragging his partner here, but it was the only place he could think of that would focus on anything but solstice.

And then Rude's body does something it's only ever seemed to do around Reno, and very rarely- he smiles when he sees his partner checking out the singer, while his stomach churns and twists in on itself. He doesn't like when this happens; it throws him off balance and leaves him confounded.

He clenches his teeth and waits for the roiling to subside, but his eyes snap up when Reno addresses him, ever alert and hanging on his every word. His stomach settles as he watches Reno ease into his seat more comfortably. he doesn't frequent this place the way Reno frequents a bar, no... "I make an occasional habit of it," he picks, albeit guardedly. Reno still doesn't know what most of his 'personal life' entails, which... is nothing.

Routines in his own house that he can never sit well until he completes, and a predictable cycle of places he goes every couple of months. Reno would find such a shtick boring, and for some reason, once Rude actually started THINKING about Reno in comparison to his own personal life several months ago, Rude was ashamed of his habits for the first time in his life. He's still amazed by the fact that he broke most of his holiday routines in order to do what he's doing now.