Midgar Thearter 5002 and 3/4

>All in a Day's Work

Reno: You can tell this is going to be a Turk fic.
Elena: How so?
Reno: The fans are under the false pretenses that we work.
Tseng: We do work Reno...
Rude: Yeah, doing Shin-Ra’s dirty work.
Tseng: ...yeah. Thanks Rude, I think.

>There is no dip.

Elena: Yeah there is, I’m looking right at him!
Rude: Wh-
Reno: Stop looking at me Elena!

>No Dip.
>There are tortilla chips in little wooden bowls in the center of each table.
>And there's no dip.

Reno: That’s so mean...
Elena: Where are they?
Rude: They?
Elena: Yeah, it says here that ‘Hearts full of lead, and mouths full of tar, two Turks spend their breaks having sex in a car.’
Tseng: That’s the summary.
Elena: Or something like it.

>Motherfuckers.

Elena: It’s got to be a Reno POV then.
Reno: How can you tell?
Elena: First, Rude wouldn’t be talking so much, Tseng wouldn’t say motherfucker...
Reno: By the end of this fiction I will get him to say that.
Elena: And I think it’s a yaoi.
Reno: WHAT? Oh goodie, who do I get to fuck this time?
Elena: not me...
Tseng: Fifty fifty shot Reno.
Reno: Oh boy.

>This is a great frustration. But, regardless, I'm the one that chose this particular
>godforsaken hole-in-the-wall, and I still have to order something, whether I'm boiling
>over with righteous indignation or not.

Reno: Say-a-what-a?
Elena: Reno can’t say words he doesn’t know the definition to...

>Yes, ma’am. I’m ready to order.

Reno: Yes, I’ll have four beers and a order of female.
Rude: What’s the matter Reno, tired of male/male?
Reno: A bit, I tell you, if I don’t get some soon...
Elena: ...what?
Reno: I...I don’t know yet.

>Oh, this is the non-smoking section? Thank you for your generous words of
>wisdom, Little Miss Hotpants. Now fuck off and get me three beers.

Reno: JUST three?
Elena: You know what Reno? You talk too much.
Tseng: Yeah, shut up for a bit.

>What the hell does a tavern need a non-smoking section for, anyway? Jeez.

Rude: If people don’t want to smoke?
Elena: But that’s like having a peeing section of the local pool, it all gets circulated anyways.

>We didn't come here to blow bubbles and make daisy chains. Ah, well.

Tseng: *snickers*
Elena: Yes we are, it’s arts and crafts time!
Reno: No more daisy chains!
Rude: A little traumatized from the last ‘Craft day’ we had?
Reno: Elena shot me with her flower gun...
Elena: It was pretty.

>Tseng

Reno: NOT ANOTHER TSENG/RENO!

>said earlier that he just wanted to smoke, but he orders some kind of
>seafood. There are some raucous men entering the building, but they are heading
>toward the back room. So I guess they won't disturb our meal.

Elena: Good.
Rude: But every good Yaoi needs something happening...
Tseng: Quiet, I just want to watch.
Reno: But then we aren’t doing our job, boss.

>"Reno."

Reno: What? I’m not sleeping in class again teacher, don’t send me to the principles office again!
Rude: ...okay...

>What? It talks. Holy shit.

Reno: If I hadn’t read it was Tseng up in the last page, I’d say it was Rude...
Rude: I talk.
Elena: Not much.
Rude: I’ll have you know I talked a lot in the game.
Tseng: And he was witty, go figure.

>"Boss?"
>You see, Tseng wasn’t appointed our ‘boss.’ Nor was he elected. He just became
>the boss, and very quickly, I might add. Something about him is just inherently…
>princely.

Tseng: *growls*
Reno: Did I POV something wrong?
Tseng: I was the prince of Wutai way back when...let’s drop it.
Elena: So that’s why you have that speck.
Tseng: It’s my DOT.

>His becoming the leader was a natural shift that we all allowed because it seemed
>instinctive. On a subconscious level, you take one look at him and think,
>‘Well, here comes Admiral Tseng. Better look busy.’

Tseng: So that’s what you guys do when you see me coming...
Elena: hell yeah, don’t want to see you mad.

>"Where is Rude?" His eyes narrow. His eyes already were narrow,

Tseng: Blame it on heritage, my eyes are Wutan eyes.
Elena: That and they are damn sexy too.
Reno: Wow, he can blush too.
Tseng: Shut it.

>but they
>narrow even more now. This is an interesting phenomenon that I don't have
>occasion to see often, but I am distracted by the barmaid, err...waitress…handing
>me my order, explaining that Tseng's shrimp will be finished in a few minutes.

Reno: Beer...hmmm...
Rude: No, not while MSTing.
Tseng: Shrimp? Ugh.
Elena: don’t like shrimp?
Tseng: Not my favorite...

>She sets a glass of water in front of him. He doesn't even look at it. I begin to
>drink.
>Mmmmm. Shitty'n'Cheap. My favorite brand.

Reno: Mine too!

>After a few minutes, he snuffs out his cigarette and repeats his question. It had
>flowed so easily out of his voicebox earlier that I had almost entirely missed
>it, it seemed so natural in the air. Didn't startle me awake. His voice is white
>noise, like good elevator music.

Tseng: Is my voice like that?
Reno: So, Elena....
Tseng: Is my voice like that?
Reno: You say something boss man?

>"Oh. He can't make it."
>Oh god, they're getting narrower. How is this possible?

Elena: How can one’s eyes get that narrow?
Rude: Especially when they are narrow to start with.

>"Where is he?"
>"Intensive Care Unit. Didn't anyone tell you?"
>"Did that fat bastard get shot again?"

Rude: I am big boned... I am not fat... *sniffle*


>Now, now, Tseng. He’s not fat. He’s just big-boned.

Rude: Thanks Reno!
Reno: I have to stick up for my buddy.
Rude: And the only one you haven’t laid.
Reno: In a fiction...
Rude: *blush*

>"Yeah, shoulder. He'll be out tomorrow. It just happened this morning."
>"Why didn't I know about it?"
>Shit, I dunno. Why didn't I know your eyes could get that narrow? Why didn't I
>know that this godawful music would drill a hole through my stomach? What is
>this racket, anyway?

Reno: I’m avoiding.
Tseng: Not doing a good j ob at it either.

>I turn around and see that a live band has somehow sneaked itself into this tiny
>little bar and has begun to play behind a couple of strippers who are dancing.
>"Reno."

Reno: The answer is forty eight and three quarters!
Tseng: Asleep again?

>Sorry, boss. I guess I was a little distracted by the peepshow or whatever.
>God, those girls must be over forty.
>"He wasn't shot in the line of duty. Believe it or not, there was a drive-by in Wall
>Market and he caught a bullet in the shoulder."
>Shitty'n'Cheap. Mmmm.
>"What was he doing in Wall Market?"

Reno: that’s what I want to know.
Rude: A man has to TRY to get laid every now and then...
Elena: Honeybee’s? Ugh.
Rude: They are better than the streetwalkers.

>I try not to laugh, but in doing so I make a sound like a guy who’s trying not
>to laugh, and Tseng seems to get a little angrier. I bite my tongue. He seems to
>have an idea now what Rude was doing in Wall Market, and nods wearily,
>obviously irritated.
>"Well, I suppose I'll brief you now and get to him later."
>His boiled shrimp arrives. I ask for refills.
>"Don't get drunk, Reno!" He hisses, a little louder than usual. His voice hisses when
>he's mad. His eyes get narrow and he starts hissing. Don't bite me, Tseng, I didn't
>shoot him.

Reno: I don’t get drunk on beers that number with only one digit.
Tseng: What?
Rude: It takes him nine beers or more to get a buzz.

>"Don't worry about it. I'm even better at covertly murdering people when
>I'm drunk."

Reno: That too!

>"You're not murdering anyone. We are going to...interrogate someone
>tomorrow."
>"’Bout what?"
>He's relaxing slightly now. If I squint, I can almost see his hairs smoothing
>themselves down and settling in place.

Tseng: He made my hair ruffle?
Reno: Not on purpose...
Elena: Just keep telling yourself that.

>"I am to receive a communication tomorrow morning directly from Mr.
>Shinra containing questions that he demands answers to, along with a set of
>responses that are to be considered implausible."
>Ahh. It's been a while since we've done that kind of work. Sounds like fun.
>"Rude would be a big help."
>"Yes. We will wait for him."

Elena: Awwwwww, how sweet, waiting for the injured guy.
Rude: I’m the muscles of the group, Tseng’s the brains..
Reno: And I am?
Tseng: The drunkard.
Reno: I AM ....hey beer.

>I drain my third and tap my fingers until the barmaid comes around
>with my refills. Slowpoke.
>"So where are we meeting this guy?"
>"It may not be a gentleman."
>Oh shit. Rude might have to kick some woman's teeth in. He hates hitting girls.

Rude: I do, most women are too fragile to sustain my hit...
Reno: Pussy.
Rude: I am not, I just don’t like to hit women.
Elena: Hitting on women yes, hitting women, no.

>"So where are we meeting him or her?"
>Another raucous band of young men enters; this time a bigger swarm. And these
>guys aren't just here for Madam VD in the back. They all want drinks.


Reno: *laughing* Madam VD! Oh, I know her!
Elena: Gross dude.
Reno: I don’t sleep with her, I just... know her.

>"Lower Six. Bollix Street and East Post."
>"Hey, cool. I know a great bar right near there."
>What can I say? It pays to learn your geography. Of course, there’s not a single
>place in Midgar where you couldn't literally throw a rock and hit a bar. But I’m
>proud to say that I have all seven trillion of these bars perfectly mapped out and
>ranked, first in order of the quality of their exotic dancers, and then…

Reno: in order by what occupies them, then what kind of women you can buy drinks are there...
Rude: And to think you have that much brainpower.
Tseng: And he uses it on bars.

>A very loud and rude sound clangs in a far corner of the bar, distracting me.
>I think someone was harassing the barmaid and made her drop their food and drinks.
>I look over, and, sure enough, the already-drunk young men are laughing
>uproariously at the girl’s misfortune. One of them still has his hand on her ass,

Reno: Even I don’t do that! That is just plain rude.
Rude: ...
Reno: Not you
Elena: how mean.

>so I can guess what caused her grip to falter.

>"School kids," I mutter. I can’t help but start to feel a little uncomfortable.
>My boss is here, right in front of me, staring me down while he eats
>shrimp so silkily and gracefully that I can’t even tell he’s moving. I’m
>drinking when I'm not supposed to be. There is really terrible music fouling the
>atmosphere.

Reno: Man, I didn’t know I had a crush on Tseng.
Rude: Eep.
Tseng: Ugh, don’t tell me that.

>I know the smell of a bar just before some shit goes down, and this is it. It’s
>a weight in the air, a tenseness as everyone braces themselves for some
>nonspecific,

Reno: Translation please?
Rude: Bar fight.

>unidentifiable unpleasantness that’s coming. They don’t know
>what’s going to happen; they don’t even know that they’re reacting to it. It’s
>something purely subliminal. And right now, everyone’s uneasy. And those
>stupid, ugly kids are galvanized for battle.
>"The natives are restless," I remark to Tseng, who is calmly and neatly
>touching his napkin to the corner of his mouth. Not that he needs to do that.
>I think the planet would cease its turn and stare amazed if Tseng’s shrimp
>sauce would dare defy his absolute control by dribbling anywhere it shouldn’t.
>The napkin is just a polite gesture, to disguise himself for a moment as a human
>being whose existence holds some possibility of disorder.

Rude: Oh yes, our too-clean too perfectly pressed boss,
Elena: He takes pride in his appearance.
Reno: And I still get more than he does.

>Wait. Shrimp sauce? Hmm.
>"Don’t do it Reno," Tseng says, and the venom of his voice actually physically paralyses my >hand on its way to dip a tortilla chip in his shrimp sauce.
>"Aw. Can I at least have a shrimp?"
>"No."
>"Just one?"
>"Reno!"
>"Oh, don’t be so shellfish."
>He glares. Oh, does he glare.
>"Reno, for one thing, shrimp aren’t shellfish. And,"

Tseng: Leave my shrimp alone...
Reno: Oh boy.

>He’s cut off before he can finish. The Prick Party has begun to spill over into our
>portion of the room; one of the loudest assholes Midgar has to offer is
>approaching us with his band of Merry Men. They look like the type of kids who
>live in a fishbowl filled with alcohol, eating only tacos, who habitually steal
>from blind people and laugh about it, and who think ripping phonebooks in
>half impresses women.

Reno: Damn, that doesn’t impress women?
Elena: Not in the least.
Rude: Damn, so neither does the bald-ness or glasses?
Elena: No, actually, that makes you look kind of cute.

>The thing is, not a single hair on their heads is out of place. They look like they feed
>themselves styling mousse intravenously so that their hair will eternally look
>perfect even after their bodies have decayed. It's really weird.

Reno: They put Tseng’s hair to shame!
Rude: Reno!
Tseng: Is a hair out of place? Why?

>Huh.
>Tseng redirects his glare, and I suddenly feel much lighter. The gang was apparently
>only here to greet about a half dozen way-too-young, emotionally confused
>girls who somehow got tricked into being date-rape partners tonight for this
>stinking, sweating crew of good-for-nothings. A couple of them actually seem
>to have a parochial school bearing to them. I shake my head and pay attention to my
>drink.

Elena: Date Rape?
Rude: don’t they card anymore?
Reno: Hell no.

>"You wanna leave, boss?" I inquire politely. Tseng somehow, through his amazingly
>sharp perceptive powers, knows that I'm addressing him and not my mug of beer,

Tseng: Calling your beer boss again?
Reno: Well, it does decide what I do everyday.
Rude: I’ll pay for AA, seriously.

>but no one else would have been able to tell. I usually wouldn't even think of leaving a
>tavern before I've finished at least all of my own drinks, and almost always a few of
>someone else's, too. Tseng even almost-raises an eyebrow at my unusual suggestion,
>but then he lowers his head slightly in assent.
>"The waitress is approaching. Ask her for the check."

Reno: Yes o’ gracious one.
Tseng: Was that a mock?
Reno: Noooooooooooooo.

>I obey my superior's orders to the letter, but the poor, overstressed ho-bag of a
>waitress forgot separate checks. I'll forgive you, this time, Missy. But I can't speak for
>my friend the mountain lion, here.

Tseng: Am I a mountain lion?
Elena: Grrowwwwwlll...
Rude: *chuckle*

>Surprisingly, though, he doesn't say anything to her, just pays. He even tosses a couple
>gil on the table for her after she leaves to get our change—an insult, yes, but
>it's something. I add my own contribution afterward, and even though trying to
>hide anything from Tseng is as useless as trying to boycott Shinra, I make an
>effort to keep it discreet. That politeness I caught is acting up again. There's gotta
>be a drug for that…

Reno: Yes there is, it’s called BEER!
Rude: And you take that drug all the time.
Reno: Yes. Want to go for a beer after work?
Tseng: *sigh*

>And then, just as we're getting up, it happens.
>Tseng is just turning around, and all of a sudden, there's the loud, indescribable
>noise of a blunt object connecting with flesh at a very high speed, and there's
>blood gushing from Tseng's forehead. The ugliest fratboy I've ever seen is
>raising his slightly-bloodied-but-unfractured beer bottle for a second swing,

Elena: I always knew Tseng had a hard head...
Rude: but not that hard?
Tseng: Guys, that really kind of looked like it hurt.
Reno: Yes, it didn’t even fractured.

>screaming at the top of his lungs:
>"Getcha own barrrr, ya pink fuckin' pink-ass fairy pinks!"
>…I feel bad for the kid. What ungraceful last words.

Reno: Hell yeah!
Rude: There we go Reno!
Elena: 3...2...1...
Tseng: Now, Tseng’ gets pissed.
Elena: you know he’s made, he’s talking in third person!
Rude: Glad he’s not mad at me!

>Before the crowd can even accomplish the inevitable echoes of the buzzword "pink",
>Tseng has the kid's arm twisted backwards in such a way that it becomes visually
>obvious how absolutely broken it is. But he decides not to stop breaking it until
>the sharp edge of the bone has actually punctured through the skin and pokes out
>grotesquely near the elbow. He follows this up neatly by simultaneously knocking
>the kid unconscious and destroying his face with two separate punches, executed
>so fast that they look like one blow. The first is a straight upper cut to the bottom
>of the jaw, knocking his head upward into the next blow to the left eye and upper
>cheek.

Reno: Go Tseng! Go Tseng!
Rude: Wow...
Elena: Neato!

>I'm proud to work for this man.

Tseng: I am framing those words!

>The kid falls limply to the floor, right on top of his broken arm. I sucker-punch
> a couple guys that are just plain in the way, and I walk outside, following
>Tseng, who is holding a hand to his forehead and maintaining a dangerously
>blank expression. There's blood dribbling down his face; some of it splattered on
>his clothes. I offer him my handkerchief. He takes it and continues to walk
>briskly toward the car.

Tseng: OUCH! MOTHERFUCKER!
Reno: I have that on record! I got Tseng to cuss, I got Tseng to cuss... *does happy dance.*
Elena: Tseng said something bad?
Rude: I don’t know, it sounded like good elevator music.
Tseng: Shut. Up.
Reno: *still doing happy dance while singing* I got Tseng to cuss... I got Tseng to cuss...

>"You all right there, Tseng?" I ask, once we're in my car. It's a Shinra-provided
>car—new, expensive, black. Tinted windows, even.

Reno: There we go again... another black shiny car.
Rude: Where would we get cars like that.
Tseng: My car looks like that.
Elena: no it doesn’t. It’s black, yes...
Rude: Mine’s such a rusty old piece of shit...
Reno: I have a moped.

>We actually have
>older ones we have to use if we're doing covert shit, because these ones
>just scream, "TURK". Everybody in the lower sectors knows not to try and
>steal the hubcaps off a sleek black luxury car.

Tseng; Do they now?
Reno: That doesn’t stop anyone in the slums.

>"The bleeding has slowed down, but do you still keep a level 3 cure in
>your glove compartment?"
>"Sure do. But let me look at it first."
>I lean in over him and examine his face. He graciously allows me to do so,
>even moving the handkerchief so that I can see. It's a pretty bad gash, skin split
>open and all. It's gotta sting pretty bad, and there might be some bruising.

Rude: Ouch.
Tseng: That looks like it hurt more than Sephiroth’s sword.
Reno: ...huh?

>"All right. It's not a clean cut. Some of the skin is damaged. Looks like we'll need a
>level 2 spell if you don't want a scar." I hit the glove box hard with my elbow
>and it falls open, and the materia gracefully rolls into my open palm. I cast the spell as
>soon as it touches my skin.


Reno: CURE 3!

>"Thank you, Reno."
>"Ah, it's nothing. I just did it 'cos you look so good in sparkly green light."

Tseng: No flirting Reno!

>"You owe me for six beers, seven gil apiece. Pay up."
>Just to annoy him, I'm not backing off, still hovering right over is face,
>practically in his lap. Hell, literally in his lap. He's showing amazing control by
>not breaking my jaw right now.

Tseng: That’s right, it’s a Reno/Tseng, isn’t it?
Reno: Yes... I’m going to need a beer.

>"Let's see. Seven times six…that's nineteen, right?"

Elena: Numb-nuts.
Reno: I’m pushing...

>"Forty-two."
>I dig out my wallet and sigh. "Aw, phooey. I can never pull anything past
>you." I fold the bills neatly and wedge them suggestively into his belt. Then I get
>off him and crawl backwards, fully intending to settle down in the drivers' seat.

Reno: I’m a little slut-bag
Rude: Short and stout!
Reno: Here is my beer...
Rude: And here is my mouth!
Reno: When I see a girl
Rude: My dick sticks out.
Reno: Cuz I’m a slut-bag
Rude: Short and stout!
Elena: *claps* Nice...nice.

>But Tseng catches me by the wrist.
>"That's the kind of behavior, Reno, that causes incidents like that one."
>Uh-oh. No amount of joking or ass-kissery can rescue me from this upcoming
>insubordination lecture. I'll probably get written up again, too.

Reno: Again, it says...again.
Tseng: Can it, I write you up all the time.

>"Tell me, Reno. Why do you think Bowlcut Boy attacked us back in there?"
>When he says 'why,' you can actually hear the 'h' in it. He always takes care
>to enunciate everything perfectly. And I don't know how, but it makes him sound
>that much scarier when he's mad.

Elena: he also does that because he’s forgein.
Tseng: I do try to enunciate, unlike some redheaded men.
Reno: Rude! I didn’t know you had red hair!
Rude: I have NO hair.

>"Because he was stupid and drunk?"

Elena: Ehh! WRONG!
Rude: Try again!

>Tseng's using this trick he has, where he acts like he's being patient and
>humoring you, but everything you do or say wrong is winding up in him slowly,
>tighter and tighter, until it all snaps very neatly right back at you. And after that
>happens, you really come to realize how much you'd probably be better off as
>one of those mute, paralyzed abortion survivors who have no idea how to swallow
>their own saliva. It was a bad idea for me to piss him off.


Elena: Abortion survivors?
Rude: Eh, Reno would still drink beer!
Reno: Damn straight.

>"Why us, though, Reno?"
>"It must have been your gorgeous, long, shimmering ebony tresses. Everyone's
>jealous of your terrific hair, Tseng," I say, starting the car. Digging my grave.

Tseng: Oh..... oh ho! Flattery is not going to get you anywhere!
Reno: But in your pants apparently.
Tseng: Ah...er...
Elena: He’s right.

>"Wrong. I'll give you a hint. It was something having to do with you."
>"My gorgeous, long, shimmering red tresses? You're too modest. That can't be it."

Tseng: Wow... that’s an ego for you.
Reno: Shut up...
Elena: Talk about two vain men talking about their hair.
Rude: Exactly why I have none.

>"It isn't. It was because your childish behavior was mistaken for flirtation. Really,
>Reno. Reaching over, that unnecessarily close to me, just to leech some of my
>shrimp sauce? The suggestiveness of that kind of posture, even to you, must be
>obvious."

Reno: That’s just wrong.
Elena: Come on, we need to get onwards towards the lemon.
Rude: Even I am waiting for this one.
Tseng: Et Tu Rude?
Reno: Yes, egg shoo Rude?
Tseng: *sighs*

>What? Now that's just bullshit.
>"Tseng. Really. I'm serious about this. Those guys were fag-bashers, and we
>walked in with long hair. They weren't paying attention to our behavior. They

Tseng: I like my hair!
Elena: so do I!
Reno: I love my hair!
Rude: I love my hair-less-ness!
(Authoress: So do I!!! I love ‘em all)

>eventually noticed us out of the edges of their bleary vision and saw my ponytail.
>Then they came over to try and break bottles over our heads. That's how guys like
>that work. I know you'd like to blame it on my behavior, since it oh-so-plainly rubs
>your sleek, black coat the wrong way…"
>"Then why keep doing it, Reno? This isn't the first time you've acted
>unprofessionally while you're on duty, in public. This is habitual conduct for you.
>And your posture is terrible. Even your clothes are always disheveled. If you weren't
>such a good fighter, I'd have transferred you to janitorial work years ago.

Reno: What? You’d trust me to clean?
Tseng: Not really.

>You should start thinking before you act."

>Well. Isn't that interesting.

>"Aww. Don't you love me anymore? You know, if you wanted to get rid of me so
>badly, you could've just said something."
>"You're not fired. In the future, just try to…"
>"I quit."
>"What?" He's surprised, because he knows what happens to insiders who 'quit'
>prematurely, and he knows I know it, too. I've seen too many dirty little secrets
>to be a safe thing to let loose into the wide, wide world. They'll never let me go alive.

Tseng: Damn right.
Reno: We can’t let anyone go without death.
Elena: *gulp*

>But I always knew I'd go young. And I'd rather die as I am than let Tseng sculpt me
>into a shiny, convenient little ornamental hitman.

Reno: Like Rude.
Rude: What the fuck?

>"I said I quit. Wouldn't want you to have to dirty your hands with any more
>drunken queer-haters on account of little old me."
>"Reno, stop this car. Now."
>"Yes, boss." I pull over into to an alley, and let the car idle. It really barely fits in here.
>"I can't allow you to quit."
>"Y'know, Tseng, I like Midgar. And I even like all these filthy little alleyways
>it has everywhere. I'm really going to miss this place."
>"Reno…"

Tseng: Stop being stupid.
Reno: Then stop being me.

>"But Scarecrow, I think I'll miss you the most of all…"

Reno: There’s no place like home....there’s no place like home...

>"Reno. I've been rebuking you for the same behavior for almost seven years now.
>So tell me. What the hell is different now? Why are you quitting on me all of a sudden?"
>"Tseng, get real. It's not my conduct, my clothes, or my posture that's bothering
>you. It's me you don't like. And if you don't want to work with me, it's better if you
>don't have to."

Reno: Wow... I’m telling our boss off...
Tseng: You wouldn’t really do that, would you?
Reno: I don’t know.

>Sometimes, Tseng gets really mad very quickly when no one expects him to. Like
>right now. It's like he just suddenly slams down on his wrath accelerator,
> and vrrrooooooom…watch out.
>"But that's not true," he snarls, and somehow pitches himself right at me, grabbing
>me by the rumpled collar and yanking me toward him. "I do like you." And then he
>pauses, like his words just smacked him in the face as hard as the beer bottle did,
>like he's almost somewhere near as surprised as I am about what he just said…
>Only for a second.
>Then the son of a bitch kisses me.

Elena: Woooooooo-hoooooooooooooo! LEMON TIME!

>Pushes me back, leans his face into mine and kisses me, hard, tongue and
>everything. My head gets somehow wedged very uncomfortably inbetween the
>window and the seat belt thingy, and when my head falls back, it engages the
>autolock system and there's a loud 'click'. Despite the fact that he just ate, his mouth
>just tastes like water…hot water, and nothing else. He probably tastes like
>cigarette smoke, too, but I'm unable to taste that any more…and Jesus, he just keeps
>kissing me.

Reno: Shouldn’t that be ‘Shiva’?
Rude: No, these authors use their own deities when writing. They don’t think that we have different....
Elena: enough.

>For a long time, too.
>I break it off, finally, and I admit, a little reluctantly. Even though my neck hurts like
>holy hell, I like the feel of his weight on me, and I like how tightly he's holding
>onto me, still with his right hand on my collar. I take a moment to breathe.
>"All right. What is this, Tseng?"
>"It should be obvious."
>Jesus Fuck. After what he just did, he has the audacity to look irritated.

Rude: There we go again.

>At me. Like I forced him at gunpoint to stick his damn tongue down my throat.

Tseng: I’d rather be shot.
Reno: Thanks, you know, I’m a really good kisser.

>"I beg you. Spell it out for your untidy, slouching, lamebrain understrapper."

Tseng: Exactly what I call you all the time.
Reno: Hey!

>He's silent for a while, and just when I think I'd rather walk back to work than
>share the same car with this monkey any longer, he decides to end his dramatic pause.
>"…I apologize, Reno." I have to hand it to him, he's meeting my eye with no
>problem. Tseng's no coward. I'm shocked as hell that he's apologizing, but it takes
>balls to say you're sorry to someone you don't get along with.

Reno: Wow. I am proud to work for you!
Tseng: *holding up recorder* I GOT THAT!
Reno: Prove it!
Tseng: *hits play button* “Elena... ooooh...” *turns it off* Sorry...
Elena: TSENG!

>"You sure got a funny way of saying 'sorry'."

Reno: Must be some sort of... Wutan way of saying sorry.

>He doesn't respond. Unless you count blinking. Which I don't.

Reno: Unless I’m talking to Rude.
Rude: I wear sunglasses you know.

>"So why? Why'd you do that?" I test his seriousness by coming in close to him
>again, to try and gauge how unsettled it makes him. To my sheer and utter
>bafflement, he just closes his eyes like he thinks I'm coming in for another kiss.
>And he wants it.
>He realizes quickly that I'm not about to kiss him, so he answers the question.
>"It would have been my fault, if you had left. Your…loss…would be on my
>hands. It's important for me to apologize. I don't want you to leave."

Tseng: Yeah, I’m fond of all of my Turks.
Rude: Particularly Elena.
Tseng: *smiles* Hell yeah...

>"Since when does that matter, though? We've all got trained candidates lined
>up and ready in case one of us dies. We've all got more deaths on our hands than
>you can shake a bloodied switchblade at. Quit bullshitting and tell me the
>real reason."

Elena: Isn’t it obvious? He likes you.
Tseng: er....Elena.

>There's only about a half an inch of space between our lips, and damned if
>my clown of a boss doesn't take this moment to decide that it's too damn much.
>And then what he said finally dawns on me. And it is obvious, even to me. He doesn't
>want me to stay because he feels guilty, or because he needs my skills, or because
>he wants to make out with me in my car. He kind of likes me, and doesn't want to
>get rid of me just yet. He…doesn't resent me like I thought he did.
>"I don't want you to leave," he repeats, ending the kiss and drawing himself
>partway up so he can quickly unfasten the few buttons on my shirt that I actually
>bothered to do up this morning.

Rude: Damn... That’s oddly hot.
Elena: Isn’t it?

>"I'll have you know Tseng," I warn, trying to keep my composure as he circles
> a thumb around my right nipple, "that I'm not a 'first date' kind of girl."

Reno: He did buy me drinks...
Rude: No, he made you pay them back, right?
Reno: That’s right...

>"Reno. For once would you just take my advice and shut up?"
>"No. Because if I do it this once, you'll only ask for it again, and…
>ooh, keep doing that. And…"

Elena: there you go... typical Reno!
Reno: I am...okay, yes I am.

>He kisses me again. His kisses are hard and smooth and deep, and he's
>somehow managed to completely take off my blazer and is almost finished
>with the rest of my shirt before I even notice. He's got his right leg wedged
>in between mine, rubbing my crotch with it though the fabric—which sounds
>vulgar but is actually quite nice.


Reno: Maaan boss. Buy me dinner first!
Rude: Steam up the windows why don’t you?

>All right, so I'm going to let my boss fuck me in the front seat of my car.
>No problem, I know just what to do.
>I slip my hand down between his legs and give him a polite
>getting-to-know-you squeeze. He hisses when I touch him, but it's a purely

Reno: ‘Getting to know you’
Elena: *laugh*
Rude: That is funny.

>complimentary kind of hiss—just a sharp inhale though his front teeth. Then he
>suddenly jerks me hard and quick up by the collar, with one hand somehow
>maneuvering itself to hold on to my waist, and pulls me forward into his arms as
>he sits upright and moves backwards. His right and my left leg end up dangling
>down into the floor of the passenger's seat, and we're sort of sitting on our other
>legs, half-kneeling. He moves his right hand from my collar to my throat, then back
>behind my neck, and pulls my face back to his for another, longer, kiss. I grind against
>him and he moans, low and throaty, rolling his hips to meet my almost-thrusts.

Elena: Now that is just plain... *drool*
Rude: Getting turned on Elena?
Elena: So are the three guys I do these MSTing with!
Tseng; *crosses legs*
Rude: *blush*
Reno: *flaunts*

>He kisses my neck, and scoots back a little to give himself space to unbutton
>my fly. My shirt and jacket ended up somewhere in the wheel-well; I begin
>to carefully unbutton his while I expertly remove both my shoes without using my
>hands. I kick the one on the seat back so it lands in the hollow between the seat
>and the door.

Reno: Finding all of my clothes after this will be hell.

>I get his shirt and blazer off, and throw them over where my shoe landed.
>Tseng wraps his long fingers around my shaft, having successfully pulled my
>pants and underwear half down, and strokes me very slowly while he licks my
>adam's apple.

Elena: Reno... are you...enjoying this?
Reno: *nods* Hmm hmm...
Rude: You know, he’s actually bi!
Reno: I am not...
Tseng: Admit it...we all are.
Elena: even me?
Reno: I saw you making out with a girl the other night.
Rude: fine, read this THE TURKS ARE ALL BISEXUAL!
Reno: Thanks... there goes all my free drinks tonight.
Tseng: no, you’ll get double drinks tonight.

>I watch the muscles around his collarbone flex slightly, easily as he moves his
>hand on me, not faltering when I unfasten his belt and fly. Also, he doesn't rebuke
>me for not wearing my belt, for which I'm grateful.

Tseng: What’s a belt?
Rude: *snicker*

>"Reno, we're going to need something for lubricant."
>"Got it covered," I assure him, a little surprised that my words come out in a quiet sigh.
>I open the glove box again, and reach behind all the papers, materia, and spare clips,

Reno: Half-eaten chocolate candy bar...used condoms...
Elena: Gross.
Rude: Reno, have you noticed you’ve done both Tseng and Elena in that same car?
Reno: Oh, the Secret Santa Fiction?
Rude: Yeah...when’s it my turn?
Tseng: I’ll work on it! Rude/Reno fictions are more... sensual. Not just fuck and leave.
Rude: I’ll MST anything.

>bringing out a smallish white tube. I give it to him.
>"Hand Lotion?" He looks amused. He even quirks an eyebrow. "'Fast Relief
>for Severely Dry, Parched, Itchy Skin'."

Reno: That’s what we have right now... Parched skin...
Tseng: Between our legs?

>"Don't look at me like that. You've done sniper work before; you know how
>chapped your hands can get in the winter. They crack and bleed."
>"Only because you won't wear gloves in the cold."
>I stick my tongue out at him.

Rude: that can be...

>He catches it, of course, in his mouth, and sucks on it calmly, unaffected by my
>impertinence. I hear him taking his shoes off; he has a little more trouble than I did
>because he ties them tighter, but he manages all right.

Rude: I was right, that was how they’d put an end to the talking...
Elena: I’m getting turned on.
Tseng: I have got to find that Turk three on one fiction I read about...
Elena: Do I even want to know?
Reno: It’s called triple penetration baby!

>He eases back out of the kiss quietly and nods at me, and I roll back a little,
>kicking my pants the rest of the way off as I go. He swivels, landing both
>his feet on the floor, and pulls his perfectly-pressed, crease-down-the-exact-center
>formal black trousers completely down and off, apparently eager to get right
>down to business. Just as soon as his pants are off, he starts pouring some of the
>lotion out into the palm of his hand.

Tseng: Damn Reno...this stuff stings...
Rude: It is going to on THAT shaft.
Elena: now can you see why I like Reno?
Reno: Why does nobody in fictions wear condoms?

>He motions for me to slide onto his lap, and it's a hell of a challenge, but I
>manage to get there without bumping my head on the dome light. He helps me
>position myself so that it's not uncomfortable—for me or him.

Reno: Impending penetration...

>I sit up on his thighs, far enough away from him so he can reach, and bend forward,
>giving him space to prep me. His legs are parted and he reaches his right hand
>between them to slide two fingers inside me, covered with plenty of lotion. I can't
>see him, but I can feel the movement as he strokes the lotion over himself
>with his other hand.
>"Relax, Reno."
>I realize that I'm breathing about as calmly as a rutting moose.

Elena: What does one of those sound like?
Reno: BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAD image!
Rude: Yeah, I can image Reno sounding like that.

>I try and slow it down a little, but it's not easy. Tseng, bless him,
>is very patient with me, just slowly rubbing me inside with his two fingers,
>back and forth, until I finally start to loosen up. After about a minute, I finally
>give one last heavy exhale and let my shoulders sag.
>"Ready, Tseng. Go ahead."
>He eases a third finger in, experimentally, and apparently is satisfied that I've
>relaxed enough. Without a sound, he draws me back, closer to him, and pushes
>the head of his cock inside.

Tseng: Now that is oddly hot.
Elena: I am in trouble tonight...
Rude: Sucks being the only female, doesn’t it?

>I scoot back the rest of the way, so my back is pressed right up against him,
>forcing him all the way in. He gasps roughly and puts a hand on either side of
>my hips, thrusting up a little harder, then drawing out a little, then back up.
>I hook my feet around his ankles for leverage and give him a little extra help
>with the motions. It's cramped in here, and it's only polite to help out, for
>the common good.

Reno: I don’t say polite during sex...
Rude: You don’t say diddly during sex.

>…And good it is. Evidently Tseng's general aura of cultured, unhurried elegance
>extends to all avenues of human endeavor. He's going wonderfully slow, no
>jerking or ramming or anything discourteous or animalistic. He sighs, too, every
>so often, just a slightly heavier breathing with a little voice to it.
>In all honesty, I've never been fucked in a car before.

Reno: See chapter two?
Elena: Or was that three?
Rude: he’s been fucked in a car before.
Reno: Several times.

>And although in my younger days I was practically famous the world over for
>bedding anything that could buy me a drink, truth be told, it's been a hell of a
>long time since I've done this with a guy. And it feels incredible, the way he's
>stroking me inside, smooth and deep, just like he kisses. I know I'm
>groaning pretty loud. People can't see us through the windows, but I'm starting
>to wonder if they can hear me.

Rude: Just ten, Elena and Rude walk by...
Elena: And decide to join in on the fun!
Tseng: We’ve corrupted her!

>Eh. Guess it doesn't matter.
>He's still not rushing things, still moving with quiet, skillful ease, but he's
>going just a little bit faster now. And when he slides his right hand off of
>my hip and over to cup my balls, I suddenly forget the proper way to work
>my respiratory system and I damn near choke to death. He makes a very
>pleased guttural sound when I do this, with almost un-Tseng-like abandon,
>and wraps his left arm around my belly, holding me tight up against his
>chest as we keep rocking together.
>I think I'm getting close.

Reno: I am not a man of that many words when I’m getting some...

>Hell, I know I'm close. When he curls his hand around my shaft, rubbing
>me with my own precome and the residual lotion on his hand, I have to
>bite my lower lip to keep from losing it completely. I know I can't hold
>it for long.

Elena: Three...Two...
Rude: INCOMING!
Reno: That was a bad pun Rude.
Rude: Fine...in COMING!
Tseng: Like I am going to do?
Reno: *sighs*

>But he surprises me and makes me come sooner than I thought.
>"Reno, ahhhh…!"
>His hand moves feverishly over me, and I feel him tighten all over, and I know
>that This Is It. He pulls me down and thrusts up, very suddenly, and grunts
>as he begins to ejaculate. It's all I can take. I come hard, clamping my eyes shut
>and feeling the liquid rush out of me and onto my chest and stomach.
>Honest to Christ, I think I actually see stars.
>He goes still, and I can feel him relaxing. Which I think is a good idea, so I
>follow along. I feel like he's transmuted me into some kind of a liquid. Or
>maybe I should've just listened to my damn boss and had one or two fewer
>beers over my break, after all.

Reno: Maybe listening to Tseng once in a while is a good idea.

>"Time to get the hell off of me, Reno," he politely reminds me.

Reno: *looks down* I was just sitting on your lap boss...
Tseng: *pushes him* OFF!

> And I don't know how the hell he has the presence of mind, but right away
>he hands me his pocket handkerchief. I clean myself up and climb off him,
>carefully, sort of scooting my way back to the driver's side.

Rude: If I have to ride in that car next...
Elena: it probably smells good...
Reno: That’s what air fresheners are for...

>If it was difficult to get all my clothes off before sex, it's twice as hard to put
>them back on after. Naturally, Tseng doesn't bat an eyelash. He could probably
>put on a full tuxedo, while stuffed in a beer keg, without a getting a single
>wrinkle in the fabric.

Rude: *laughing*
Elena: *laughing*
Rude: Next Shin-Ra party, we are TRYING that!
Tseng: Get away from me you freaks.
Reno: But Tseng... you are KING OF THE FREAKS!

>He's tying his shoes before I've even got my fly zipped up.
>"Wait for the driver, Tseng."
>"We're already late. Hurry up."
>"Oh, the stinking office can wait until I've got my shirt buttoned up. Hold
>on a damn minute."
>He huffs indignantly, but spares me a jab about how I never button up properly
>anyway so what's the use, and after a little while everything's settled and I back
>us out of the alley.
>"Just for clarity's sake, Reno," he asks evenly, "does this mean you'll
>keep your job?"

Reno: Yes...just don’t fuck me in my car anymore.

>"On two conditions." He smirks at me like he can't wait to burst into roaring
>laughter, but he waits for me to go on. "First, get me a cigarette—one of yours,
>and light it for me. "
>"That's already two things," he says as he pulls out a cigarette and stabs it
>in my mouth. "What else do you want?"
>"Permission to put it out in Heidegger's eye when we walk in and he
>immediately gives us six neat little piles of redundant forms to fill out by hand, in
>triplicate."

Reno: Man, I hate when he does that...
Rude: You have to learn to suck up with him...
Elena: With him or on him?
Rude: To him...to him...ugh, don’t make me sick Elena.


>He manages not to laugh, but he snickers. "Unfortunately, I am not authorized to
>grant my permission concerning this request. However, you are hereby authorized to
>trip him in the hallway, exactly one (1) times, so long as you don't get caught.
>Failure to conceal your actions may result in discipline up to and including
>termination, as noted in Shinra Executive Employee Misconduct Protocol,
>sections E-1 through L-9."

Elena: Thank you Mr. Textbook.
Tseng: Ugh, I don’t remember the text THAT well...

>"Maybe I'll pour a little laxative in his coffee again, keep him in the
>bathroom. That way…"
>"Reno! You did that? When was this?"

Reno: Yes I did...
Rude: I helped, I got his coffee. He’d never blame me.
Elena: *laugh*

>"You forgot to light my cigarette! Hurry up or I quit!"
>He does, and shuts up, but he's got a certain look in his eye, and I can
>tell he's going to get me back for this.
>Doesn't bother me, for some reason.

Reno: Now that we’ve sliced and diced this fic, can I go out for a beer?
Tseng: No...
Reno: Why not?
Tseng: Because...we have two more fictions I just found.
Elena: going back up to your hidden box Tseng?
Tseng: Yes... *stands up*
Rude: Eh, it was fun Tseng!
Elena: To the Author...we only MST those we love.
Reno: And a MST is our form of flattery...
Rude: So don’t take it seriously...we do this as lighthearted jabs. We really like your fiction!