Business or Pleasure

“Business or pleasure?”

Crimson eyes regarded the speaker carefully, amusement glinting in their depths. “Undecided.”

“Is that so?” Shuffling a stack of papers, Tseng laid them aside. He folded his hands together and rested them before him on his desk. “That’s an interesting response.”

“Perhaps.” Vincent let his eyes wander around the small office. Technically, it wasn’t an office, but a front room in the tiny Wutain inn that Shinra had begun to rent. The building was no where near the massive size of the former Shinra headquarters in now-abandoned Midgar, but he supposed that the President required somewhere to operate from. He just found Wutai a strange place to do so.

Tseng, having noticed Vincent’s wandering gaze, cleared his throat. “I received your fax. I understand you are serious about this?” He pulled a single sheet of paper free and held it up.

Taking the paper in hand, Vincent glanced down it. From the look on Vincent’s face, it was clear that he still found it a little amazing that such a thing as faxing was possible. Tseng figured it was just because the gunman’s mindset was still a little focused on how things were thirty four years before. Taking the seat in front of Tseng’s desk, he settled himself. “If I wasn’t serious, would I have sent it in the first place?”

“I guess not.” A moment passed while Tseng gave Vincent a moment to read over his fax even though he had been the one to send it. Once the paper was back on the desk, he straightened and folded his hands once more. “I, ah, took the liberty of looking up your old records upon receiving your fax. I found some rather interesting things. Take a look.” Pulling a sheaf of papers from a drawer, Tseng handed them to the gunner.

Crimson eyes darted over the words. “What does this mean exactly?”

“Well,” Tseng started, leaning back in his chair, “it means that I can’t guarantee anything, but I believe you have a fair chance in reentering. A fairer chance than most.” Upon Vincent’s raised brow, he continued. “Before when you were a part of the Turks, you were never officially discharged. Turks are Turks for life unless they quit or are discharged, neither of which happened to you.”

Vincent’s nose crinkled a little as he realized what Tseng was getting at. “So what exactly does that mean toward my status here?”

“Technically, according to the records anyway, you were listed as missing. And now that you are not missing, you are still seen as an active Turk. Now, I will have to run all this by the President and a council,” he tipped his chair forward, reaching to claim the papers from Vincent, “but because of the… unusual circumstances surrounding your disappearance, I think there will be no problem getting you reinstated to your former title.”

Silence followed as Vincent thought over the statement. “How did you not come across this information earlier?” he asked slowly, letting his gaze wander to the tall stack of papers on the corner of Tseng’s desk. No doubt Shinra had nearly every record of every Turk that was ever in the department stored away somewhere. “Why did this not come up four years ago?”

Now it was Tseng’s turn to grimace. “As you were well aware, the Shinra Corporation was a little tied up with things. It was easy to skip over a few issues like yours when they weren’t brought to our attention.” He turned away for a second and glanced toward the door, ensuring it was still closed. It wasn’t that he wanted privacy for what they were discussing, but he didn’t want things to get out before they were decided and finalized. “I… have a small question for you, Vincent.” The gunman’s brows rose, a clear sign to continue. “Why are you doing this when only years ago you held a great disdain for Shinra? After all, I have heard that you blame what happened to you on the Shinra Corporation.”

“Then you heard wrong.” The reply was short and quick, making the point it was meant to. “You shouldn’t listen to everything that Reno tells you. All blame went to myself for what happened and I have come to terms with all of that.”

“So Shinra…”

“I do not hate Shinra. Certain people I may dislike, yes, but the company itself, no.” Vincent shifted a little in his seat, getting more comfortable. “I may have avoided Shinra as much as possible in the past because of what happened, but a man can change his mind, can he not?”

Tseng let out a small breath, nodding. He knew the truth of that statement well. Their own president, Rufus Shinra, had taken that particular path as well. Starting out as a man who wanted to rule the planet from his deceased father’s seat, he had changed his views upon the near-destruction of the planet and was now financially supporting the World Restoration Organization. He found the sudden change slightly disturbing, but it made it a little easier to believe when he saw someone such as Vincent relating to the same type of change.

The executive stood slowly, nodding once more. “I’ll have to do further looking into this, but I should have an answer for you by tomorrow. The meeting is set for early morning.” He moved toward the door, watching as Vincent followed behind. “Do you have a place set up for the night? I honestly doubt that you’ll be traveling back to… Kalm, was it?”

Vincent nodded. “The address has changed though, if you need that information. I decided to find a place out of town.”

“Makes sense.” Tseng exited the room, holding the door for Vincent. “So do you need arrangements for the night?” The scarlet-cloaked man nodded, his back turned to Tseng. “The convenience of working in an inn. I’ll get a room set up for you then and return for you.”

Satisfied that the talk was over, Vincent watched as the younger man turned the corner and disappeared. He wasn’t sure what had compelled him to make this trip, let alone send the fax in the first place saying he was interested in rejoining, but there he was. He had a sneaking suspicion that it had something to do with the Deepground incident a few months before. It had made him realize that thirty years in a basement hadn’t helped his condition, physically or mentally. And perhaps there was a little remainder of the thrill he used to get as a Turk still running through his veins that made him reminiscent.

He was just about to return to Tseng’s office to sit when voices reached him from around the corner. No more than a second later, a boisterous redhead and his bald counterpart rounded the corner, stopping short to stare at him. The redhead’s hand leapt to the weapon dangling from his side, clenching the metal rod tightly. “Valentine. What the hell’re you doing here?”

“Reno. Rude.” Nodding to them both, Vincent remained still. He knew from previous encounters that Reno had a tendency to make rash decisions that usually involved some sort of physical contact.

“I’ll ask ya again, what’re you doing here?” Reno’s grip tightened more, obviously agitated by the gunman’s presence in his building.

Vincent held up his hands, showing that he was unarmed. “If you must know, I am here for business.” Reno scoffed, but Rude laid a hand on his shoulder keeping him quiet. Eyes flicking from one face to another, the gunner continued. “I am reapplying for a position with the Turks.”

At that, Reno about choked. “Do what?” He turned quickly, glancing at Rude. “Can he even do that?”

Rude cocked his head back a bit, pushing his sunglasses further up on the bridge of his nose. “He used to be a Turk, right?”

“Yeah, but he was part of Avalanche. You know how many times he tried to kill us? He’s a psycho with a gun! Give him a name under the Turks and he’ll kill us all while we’re sleeping!” He threw his hands into the air for emphasis, glaring at Vincent over his shoulder.

Vincent, his face thoroughly unimpressed, let his own hands down. “I can assure you that any injury I did toward you was a response to something you had done. I have no intention to shoot you unless you make me believe you need it.”

However, the look on Reno’s face was more than enough to say he wasn’t believed. The redhead was about to take a step forward, his weapon drawn, when Tseng reappeared around the corner to bump into Rude. Peering around the larger Turk, Tseng gaped. “Reno, what in the world are you doing!”

Stopping only inches from shocking a reluctant-to-move Vincent, Reno whirled around. “Tseng! Tell me I can do it! He just barged in here like he owns the place!” He waved his EMR a little, just barely missing Vincent’s nose.

“Reno, stop this! Put that away!” Muscling his way past Rude the best he could, Tseng grasped the redhead’s arm. “He’s here to be reinstated as a Turk, you idiot!”

Dumbfounded that the elder Turk had confirmed Vincent’s reason for being there, Reno gaped. “Seriously?” he yelped, his voice rather high-pitched.

“Yes, seriously. And I’m sure we would all appreciate it if you didn’t go around with that thing charged.” Tseng held out a hand for the weapon. “I know that I’m a little tired of you accidentally whacking me on the shoulder with it. I can just imagine what Rude has to deal with.”

The bald Turk groaned a little, earning a piercing glare from Reno. “Yeah, well, this kinda thing could happen any second! How was I supposed to know he was here to be a Turk again? He could’ve been here to take revenge or something and shove us all in some closet somewhere, bound and gagged, with a big target on the door so he could practice!”

Everyone but Reno rolled their eyes. They were all familiar with Reno’s somewhat outlandish imagination and how he liked to use it whenever possible. Vincent, his face completely calm despite what he had just been partially accused of, let out a small sigh. “Perhaps because I already explained why I was here.”

Miffed that the conversation, if it could be called that, had turned on him, Reno bit his tongue. “Like I’m gonna believe you,” he muttered under his breath. Tseng shot him a warning glance, one that send Reno into a sort of submission and provoked him to slink away beside Rude.

“Anyway,” Tseng started, making sure Reno’s antics were over for the moment, “I have a room set for you. I can take you there if you like—“

“Whoa, wait a minute!” Tseng groaned audibly as Reno shoved forward again. “He’s staying the night here?”

“Yes, he is. The meeting to decide if he is reaccepted is tomorrow morning and he has no lodgings for the night. So unless you know of a place for him to stay or are willing to give up your apartment, he’s staying here.”

Green eyes bright, Reno grinned. “No way. Never givin’ up that bed, thanks. Way too comfortable.” At the roll of his superior’s eyes, he let the grin fall. “So all this stuff about him being a Turk again, that’s real?”

“Yes.”

“And by tomorrow morning he might be a Turk again?”

“Yes.”

“So do we have permission to go out and give him the Turks’ welcome?”

“Yes—I mean no! I certainly will not—“

“Nuh uh! You already said yes!” Laughing heartily, Reno danced away from Tseng’s swinging grasp. “If he’s gonna be a Turk then he’s gotta follow the rules.”

Vincent, who had been standing there silent the entire time, cleared his throat. “I was already a Turk once. I believe I know how these… welcomes go and have already participated in one. This leaves me as exempt and I think I shall retire to this room Tseng spoke of.” He turned and followed the nodding Tseng who was already starting down the hallway.

“Nope! Wait a minute there, Vinny!” Vincent whirled at the call, glaring. He would have to put a stop to that name very soon. “That was what? Fifty years ago? If you hadn’t noticed, things’ve changed! That includes the welcomes here so you’re not exempt.” Reno flashed him a grin.

“Reno, just leave him be. I’m sure he had a long journey today and just wants to rest.” Tseng gave Reno another warning look, but it had no effect this time around.

Bounding forward, the redhead grabbed Vincent’s cloak and started tugging him backward. “Come on! It’s better than sitting around waiting for the morning to come and then waiting for some meeting, isn’t it? Gotta get reacquainted and all that!” He tugged again, losing his balance and tumbling to the floor. “Hey! What’d you do that for!”

Vincent yanked his cloak again, pulling it cleanly out of Reno’s grasp. “I would appreciate it if you didn’t do those sorts of things,” he said sharply.

“Yeah, well…” Reno glared at the floor between them. “What’s your deal? Just trying to do something fun for you!”

“I told you, I’m not interested.”

Tseng glanced from one to the other. “Reno, weren’t you just now threatening Vincent if he didn’t leave?”

“That’s different!” Catching a hold of Rude’s hand, the redhead hauled himself to his feet. “Now I know he’s legit! Just trying to give him the Turk experience, is all.”

“I am perfectly fine without this so-called ‘Turk experience’, thanks you.” Vincent turned once more, keeping his cloak close to him this time.

Huffing loudly, Reno crossed his arms. “Okay! Sure, go on! I’ll just sit outside of your door and bug you every five minutes till you go!” When crimson eyes glanced back at him, he cocked his head to the side. “I’ll do it, too.”

“He actually will,” Tseng grumbled, recalling the many times Reno had done that exact thing until he had relented and agreed to something. He had missed many a deadline because of that particular trick of Reno’s.

Glancing from the elder Turk to the redhead, Vincent sighed. “Fine. But don’t expect me to do anything idiotic.”

“All right! Don’t worry, Vinny! It’ll be great.”

“And don’t call me ‘Vinny’.”

“Sure thing, Vin!” Reno grinned brightly, moving forward to start pushing Vincent toward the back entrance.

Minutes later, the three had settled themselves at one of the many taverns scattered around Wutai. Vincent was afraid they would end up at such a place, but did nothing once they were there. He didn’t need to give Reno a reason to aggravate him into going back on his attempt to rejoin.

“Hey. Heeeey. You gonna order anything?” A finger tapped his shoulder, the same finger that had been tapping away for the past minute or so. “You know, this is the best bar in town. Don’t tell me you’re gonna miss out on that!”

“Reno, I have no wish to drink. That is my final response.”

“Sure… you probably want to stay sober so you can be alert for the decision tomorrow.” Reno’s face was fairly serious for a moment before he cracked. “What the hell’re you thinking? You’re in a bar! How can you not drink when you’re in a bar? It’s like… hey, Rude. What’s that word you’re always using?”

“Blasphemy?”

“Yeah! It’s like blasphemy not to drink when you’re sitting in a bar! Now are you gonna have that on your conscience, Valentine?” He narrowed his emerald gaze, raising a brow. “Hmm?”

Taking a sip of the water he had asked the bartender for, Vincent gazed calmly into Reno’s face. “Yes. I am perfectly fine with that.”

“Ah, you’re just no fun!” Waving a bartender over, Reno pointed at Vincent. “Get him something strong! And make sure it’s actually strong, thank you.” Grinning like he had just won the jackpot at a chocobo race, he rested his chin in his hand. “So what’re you gonna do now?”

Vincent slowly took another sip of water, setting the glass down carefully. “Not drink it.”

“Right. Like you can.” The drink was set down and three pairs of eyes went to it. “It’s right there, Vinny. You know you wanna do it…”

“I most certainly do not.”

“Do it…”

“No.”

“Come one, just drink it.”

“I will not.”

“Vinny, do it…”

“I refuse.”

“Vinnnnnnny…”

“All right, fine.” Vincent sent him a dark glare as he picked up the glass. “I’ll drink it if you never call me ‘Vinny’ again.”

“Deal.” Grinning widely, Reno sat back with his own drink. “Welcome to the Turks and may you never fall in a bottomless pit.”

Vincent rolled his eyes as he held out his glass to clink it against both Reno’s and Rude’s. “I shall keep that toast in mind if I ever come across one.”

The redhead had already thrown back his drink, downing it in one gulp. “If you do, call me! I wanna see it,” he stated with a laugh, setting the glass down loudly. “Be a sight, that’s for sure.”

Vincent quelled the need to shake his head at the redhead. It was just the Turk’s normal personality to make smart-aleck comments that sounded half-way serious. And most likely the alcohol he was drinking wasn’t helping. Peering down into the amber of his own glass, Vincent raised the drink to his lips.

Catching sight of the gunman sipping, Reno gave a little cheer. “There we go!” He patted his partner on the shoulder as Rude silently joined the drinking, sending an almost congratulatory grin to Vincent. “Now that you’re actually not sitting there being all boring and stuff, how about we play a little game?”

===============

Papers rustled softly as a tired sigh filled the air. Black eyes shifted to the ceiling before closing. He was used to long nights such as this one was turning into, especially ever since Shinra had been displaced to the Wutain inn, but he was just feeling extra strung-out at the moment. Groaning a little, he leaned back in his chair. Perhaps he should take a small break. What he was doing could wait a few moments.

Tseng nodded to himself in agreement. Technically, what he was working on could wait for the next morning, but he figured it was better done as soon as possible. He sometimes regretted that side of his personality, though he supposed it wasn’t entirely his fault. Years of deadlines and more deadlines had turned him into someone who preferred to have things done and completed before they were needed.

Rubbing a bit at his still-closed eyes, the Turk gave another sigh. He was half-contemplating finishing the rest tomorrow despite the urging sensation inside of him that kept prodding him on. He opened his ebony eyes and cast a shadowed glance at the papers spread over his desk. Perhaps he would leave them. He was feeing awfully run down tonight.

Straightening the stack to the best of his ability, he filed them away in a stray folder. No need to let them lay out for Reno to scatter in one of his late-night searches for the hard candies Tseng kept in his desk. He had come into his office more than enough times to find his work on the floor or out of order.

Speaking of Reno… Tseng glanced toward the door. Neither Reno, Rude or Vincent had returned yet, something that had the elder Turk wondering. It seemed far past midnight and a quick look proved it to be around two-thirty. Usually the pair was back by now, sleeping off the night’s antics. But tonight… He gave a little sigh. Knowing Vincent, it was highly unlikely that he was the reason they were all still out.

He was about to leave his office when a loud bang interrupted his thoughts. A second later, he saw something grey skidding down the hallway to smack into the nearest wall. It spun to a stop and Tseng clearly recognized it as Reno’s EMR. Not a moment passed before a shout filled the hall, echoing loudly.

“Hey! I missed! You jinxed me!”

“I did nothing of the sort! You just have veeery bad aim.”

“Bad aim my ass! I could hit a… a… a moving Adama—daman—uh, that big turtle thing that hangs out behind the place!”

“Oh yes, because those are just soooo fast.”

“All right you two. Turn here.”

Tseng’s brows knit as he listened to the voices. He recognized them as easily as he had the weapon, but was surprising him was that two sounded utterly drunk while the third voice was relatively sober. He realized that in itself wasn’t all that surprising, but the fact that Rude happened to be the sober one was what stunned him.

The trio soon rounded the corner, proving Tseng’s conception as true. Reno was, as he had come to expect, drunk. And Rude, his partner’s arm around his shoulder, had a calm face belying his unintoxicated state. The part that Tseng found disturbing about the trio was Vincent, who was having a harder time than Reno with standing on his own.

Tseng stepped forward, grasping the gunman’s arm before he toppled to the floor in his drunken haze. “Rude, what happened?” he inquired, keeping his voice somewhat calm.

The Turk shouldered Reno’s arm higher, keeping his partner standing for a little while longer. “They had a little too much to drink,” he reported slowly. Now that he was listening, Tseng could tell Rude had downed a few drinks of his own, just no where near the amount the other two had consumed. “I opted to stay out of their drinking games.”

“Drinking games?” Tseng, his grip on Vincent slipping, turned to lead the gunner down the hallway. Upon hearing the words, Vincent promptly started laughing which caused him to slip even more. Tseng gave a slightly irritated sigh and managed to haul Vincent to the room he had been given for the night. He was thankful it was close. “So?”

Rude followed, intent on delivering Reno to the room they often shared when one or both got too drunk to walk. “They decided it would be interesting to take a shot every time the guy playing pool missed.” He glanced over his sunglasses toward his boss a little.

“Let me guess. That happened a lot?”

“He sucked!”

Tseng jumped a bit at the shout, glancing over to Vincent who was laughing even more at Reno’s comment. “He did!” The gunner gave another short laugh, stopping as he was abruptly dropped to the bed. He looked up, crimson eyes hazy. “Well, he did.”

“All right, so he sucked. Thank you for getting Vincent smashed, Reno.” A tad bit more aggravated than he was letting on, Tseng moved to the door. “I suggest you get him to bed too before he passes out right there. I know I don’t want to be tripping over him later tonight or in the morning.”

Rude gave a silent nod, cupping a hand over Reno’s mouth before he could shout something in return. With a little force, the bigger Turk managed to get his partner to move and start for the extra room.

Turning back to Vincent, Tseng groaned inwardly. What was he supposed to do with him? The gunner had turned himself around and was now hanging off of the bed and peering at the other, a sloppy grin on his upside down face. Tseng moved closer, looking down at the gunman. “You’ll get a backache like that.”

“Don’t care,” Vincent mumbled, letting his head loll over the edge of the bed, his hair dragging on the floor. “Everything’s… backwards.”

“It’s not backwards, just upside down.” Grasping the gunner’s arms, Tseng hauled him back into a sitting position. He took a step back before moving close again to keep Vincent from falling backward. “I’m not a chair, Vincent. Sit up.”

“Don’t wanna.” The ebony head tipped, hazy eyes turning on him. “You’re comfy.”

“I’m comfy. I suppose I’ll take that as a compliment.” He shook his head a little, pushing Vincent further forward. “I’m not going to stand here all night.”

“Fine,” the gunman answered, giving a rather uncharacteristic huff. He remained where Tseng pushed him to, back bent enough to balance him and keep him seated on the bed.

Somewhat relieved that Vincent seemed more willing to comply with things than Reno when drunk, Tseng stepped toward the door. The sooner he got back to his office, the sooner he could finish his work and go to sleep. He honestly didn’t feel like he would drop now that he had encountered that little wake-up call.

His hand hovered over the doorknob to push it further open from where it had swung shut a little, but something snagged the back of his suit jacket. Glancing over his shoulder, he gave a small sigh. “Yes?” he asked the gunman who was wavering dangerously behind him.

“Where’re you going?”

The question seemed simple enough, but Tseng wasn’t sure if he should answer correctly. He had vast experience with Reno and if Vincent’s personality told him anything, he would be even more of a handful than the redhead. “Just out.”

“Why?”

Tseng resisted the urge to huff and leave. “Because.”

Ebony brows rose a little over burgundy eyes. “You can’t stay?”

“You want me to stay?” Tseng asked in a slightly exasperated voice. It wasn’t that being around intoxicated people made him irritated. He just wasn’t all that fond of being the one they always decided to drag on.

The gunman gave no response, simply a look that said yes.

“Will you at least sit down if I do?” The ebony head nodded quickly and Vincent practically bounded back to the bed, something the Turk thought he would never see in his lifetime. The mere thought of Vincent Valentine bounding to anything was just a little amusing. “At least you listen a little more than Reno.”

The gunman tilted his head a little. “I do?”

“Close enough,” Tseng mumbled lightly, sitting next to Vincent. “So why don’t you want me to leave?” He had been through the routine plenty times before, so much that he practically had it memorized. Get them talking, keep them talking until they wear themselves out then sneak out when they’re not looking. He had even perfected it down to the ability of thinking through what he needed to do instead of actually listening to the drunken ravings.

Vincent shrugged. “I dunno.” He sat there in silence for a moment before his face lit up and a soft laugh slipped from him. “You know what?”

Tseng obligingly sighed. “What?”

“This’d never be allowed back when I was a Turk.” Vincent laughed again, a little hiccup buried in the sound. “We’d’ve been hauled off and tied to some tree until we sobered up if we got caught. If we got caught, mind you.” He raised a finger at this, shaking it to show his emphasis.

“Is that so?” Tseng drawled quietly, already beginning the list of things needed to be done in his mind. “What else wouldn’t you be able to do?” The question was more or less automatic, his mind trained to repeat the important phrase from what he had just heard.

“A lot of things.” Vincent made a strange sound, one that bordered between a cough and a snicker. “We weren’t allowed to get intoxicafted, couldn’t be out past a certain time, couldn’t go to the kitchens in the middle of the night…”

Tseng nodded a little as the list ran on. The only real attention he felt he was paying the gunner was on his mispronunciation of ‘intoxicated’, but other than that he was all but ignoring the man. He realized that Vincent could catch on, but he honestly doubted it.

Suddenly the talk stopped, the only sound filling the room a soft giggle. Tseng found the noise slightly disturbing seeing as whom it was coming from and turned to him. “What?”

Vincent simply giggled again, chewing on his bottom lip a little. “Just thinking.”

“About?”

“Something else that wasn’t allowed back then.”

Tseng sighed, returning to his mental lists. Tonight was bound to be a long night. “What’s that?”

But he received no response, just the quiet giggle. He glanced toward Vincent momentarily, catching an interesting look in the glazed eyes. Tseng waited a few seconds before looking away, deciding that Vincent was just going to stay silent. Then a finger tapped his shoulder making him turn.

What he hadn’t expected was to turn right into a kiss. He jumped back, startled enough to send himself flailing off of the bed. He hit the floor hard with a thump before shooting a stunned look up at Vincent. “What was that?” he half-snapped, standing quickly.

Vincent watched him as he rose, his own legs folded neatly in front of him. “You asked.”

“I didn’t ask you to kiss me,” Tseng hissed sharply.

“You asked what wasn’t allowed. I answered.” The gunman’s head turned to the side, the curious expression on his face saying that he didn’t understand what was wrong with the situation.

It’s just the booze, Tseng muttered in his mind. Taking a breath to regain his composure, he more or less glared at Vincent. “And that required a kiss?”

“Yeah,” Vincent replied, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “It definitely wasn’t allowed to have relations or whatever they’re called with coworkers. Especially not with superiors.” He paused. “You are my superior, right?”

The Turk nodded briefly. “Yes, I am. Or at least I will be if you’re accepted.”

“That’s what I thought.” Then Vincent raised a finger, pointing at the other. “So kissing you wouldn’t be allowed back then. But now it’s all over. Reno told me so.” He gave Tseng a slightly proud smile as if he had done some big accomplishment.

“Is that so?” Tseng muttered, making a mental note to never let Reno accompany the gunman again. “And just so you know, that would get you into plenty of trouble nowadays despite what Reno says.”

“Hmm.” Vincent gave that little smile again, sliding off of the bed as he did. The Turk, wondering what he was up to, stepped back until the door pressed against his back. “Where’re you going?” Vincent asked again, this time a slight lilt hidden in his voice.

“Out. I have things to do and you should—“ He let his voice fall as Vincent’s hand reached out and clasped his wrist, pinning it against the door. Black eyes flicked down then back up to the gunman’s face. “Vincent?”

“I’d like you to stay, you know.” There was that smile again, softened around the edges. He drew closer, close enough that Tseng could hear his breathing, before coming to a stop. “You know, I like how you said that doing something like this would get me in trouble. You know that’s a lie.” The smile turned to a smirk, one that Tseng wasn’t sure he liked. “There’s all kinds of stuff going on with supervisors and workers and partners and all that. All kinds of sexual interaction.”

Tseng swallowed a little. Surely Vincent wasn’t suggesting something. It just didn’t seem right coming from the normally silent gunner. Then again, Vincent was pretty drunk. “So?”

“So, I’m just saying it happens all the time. Reno told me so.” Another mark went down on Tseng’s list of reasons why Reno should never be in contact with Vincent. The Turk wriggled a little, trying to discretely get his wrist loose from the grip it was in. However Vincent noticed and looked down to where he was holding the other’s arm against the door. “Why’re you doing that?” he asked, his voice holding an interested tilt to it.

Tseng shook his head a little as he felt Vincent’s breath on his throat. “Just let me go, Vincent. You’re not thinking clearly.” He stiffened as the breath came closer, lips brushing his skin in a whisper of “how”. “This shouldn’t be happening,” he hissed, trying his best to stay collected.

“Why not?” Vincent pulled back and Tseng breathed an audible sigh of relief. “I’m thinking perfectly clearly, thank you.” And in reality, he sounded completely sober. Tseng found it rather interesting for a moment before Vincent was once again a little too close. “Besides… Reno said I should do this.”

That single sentence stunned Tseng more than anything could at that moment. He just stood there, wondering why Reno would tell Vincent something like that, let alone suggest that he do something. He opened his mouth to ask just that but found it nearly impossible to make a sound as lips covered his own.

Tseng stiffened again at the contact, but quickly noticed something different. This kiss was slower, softer, as if Vincent was trying to convince him to go along. Yet he felt too confused to move, letting the gunman continue his kiss until his breath was gone. They parted just barely, Vincent’s breaths causing his nose to brush against Tseng’s.

Coming to his senses suddenly, Tseng turned his head aside. “Vincent, you should stop. This shouldn’t be done—“ But a hand at his mouth silenced him, the long fingers replaced by another kiss. He gave escaping a momentary thought, yet he was slowly coming to a strange idea in his mind. Kissing was better than Vincent doing something more destructive, he supposed. At least if he stayed he knew for sure that the gunman wasn’t causing some problem he might have to clean up after physically and financially.

A soft whimper slipped from Vincent as Tseng applied the tiniest bit of pressure. The Turk was running every possibility of what could and might happen through his head, one standing out in particular. Apparently Vincent had consumed quite a bit of alcohol. Alcohol tended to create fatigue which tended to cause lapses in consciousness. Pressing harder against the other’s lips, he hoped that Vincent would pass out soon.

Arms wrapped around Tseng’s waist and started pulling back, startling the Turk for a second. Recovering, he began pushing the gunman along until they collided with the edge of the bed. Both had only a breath’s time to realize what was happening before they tumbled to the covers, the taller of the two stretched out under Tseng.

The Turk pushed himself up slightly, hovering over the other. Crimson peeked up at him from under dark lashes, a bright blush spread across pale cheeks. Looking down, Tseng had to admit that Vincent was somewhat pretty for a man. He had seen photos of the elder back when he was still engaged in the Turks. But now… He let out a silent laugh as he remembered the first time he had seen Vincent and thought him a woman with his long hair, hiding inside of his cloak.

Fingers running over his back to tug at his suit jacket brought him back to the present, cool metal tips tracing over bare skin. He shivered a little, not used to the feeling of sharp metal on his skin being so gentle. Perhaps this wasn’t such a bad situation he was trapped in. He mused on that thought as lips caressed his throat, teeth scraping his skin. No, this definitely wasn’t a bad situation at all, especially since he was starting to feel certain stirrings where Vincent’s knee was pressing against his inner thigh.

Sharp tips pierced his skin and Tseng yanked his head back, slapping a hand to his stinging neck with a yelp. Vincent simply grinned at him as he did so, letting his tongue slip out to lick away the smear of blood staining his pale lips. Tseng didn’t need to pull his hand back to see that his neck was spotted with scarlet, but did so anyway, almost staring at the gunman. Vincent just smiled, taking one of the Turk’s fingers between his teeth and sucking the dark liquid away.

The feeling was something interesting and Tseng soon pulled his hand back, replacing his finger with his mouth, his tongue searching out Vincent’s. Having found it, he sucked lightly, earning a soft whimper like the one he had heard before. Teeth grazed his tongue as he swept it over sharp points, just barely catching the taste of his own blood.

The contact was broken, lips once again traveling over his throat. Tseng was a little relieved when he didn’t feel teeth pricking his skin again, yet there was a tint of disappointment in there too. He had always had a sort of fascination with a mix of danger and sex, something that Vincent and his turn in play was bringing out. He arched into the claw tickling down his back, almost reveling in the sharp points pressing against his taunt skin. He didn’t like to hurt himself, per say, but the whole idea of mixing the two was just alluring to someone who spent his days sitting behind a desk anymore instead of facing constant danger.

Encouraging Vincent to drag his fingernails and claws alike down his back, Tseng fell to nipping the soft skin below the gunman’s ear. Silken hair brushed his nose and he nudged it away as metal scored the flesh of his back.

He felt the claws snag on something, only placing it as his jacket a second after it ripped. Pushing back, he shook his head. “I’d rather keep that whole,” he mumbled, pulling it off and tossing it to the floor. The gunner’s head nodded as both hand and claw alike came around his sides to nimbly start unbuttoning the Turk’s shirt. “Was about to do that,” Tseng said quietly, his voice cut off by another finger at his lips.

“Maybe I wanna do it?”

“Then do it.” Tseng had no qualms about being undressed and wasn’t afraid to show it. After all, what did he have to hide from a man who most likely wouldn’t remember a thing in the morning? He raised his arms as the last button was undone, letting the white cotton be pushed off of his shoulders until he could add it to his jacket. Fingers instantly leapt to his slacks, but his hand on them stopped the movement. “Now, wait a moment here. Won’t do to have you fully-clothed when I’m not, does it?”

Vincent, his eyes half-lidded, shrugged before starting to unfasten the buckles holding his cloak in place. Scarlet cloth fell away and slender digits started for the black shirt before Tseng once again stopped him. “What?” Vincent asked, sounding a little impatient.

“Nothing. Just…” Brushing the other’s fingers away, Tseng began to part the dark cloth, revealing milky skin. “I wouldn’t mind if given the chance to do something as well.”

“Then do something,” Vincent replied, his voice a little huskier than usual, something that Tseng attributed to either the intoxication or the lust shining in the crimson eyes. Taking the partial order, Tseng quickly made away with the shirt and tight leather pants, adding them to the growing pile on the floor.

The first thing Tseng found he had to admit was that Vincent wasn’t as delicate as he seemed on the outside. Running his hands up strong legs, he leaned over to kiss the taunt stomach of the gunman. He certainly was in top form for someone who had been out of formal training for a while. Pale marks marred Vincent’s skin, some rivaling and outdoing many that stretched across Tseng’s own body. He thought for a moment that they had come about like his own seeing as how they had shared the same occupation, only the memory of Vincent’s story setting his mind straight.

Vincent’s eyes flashed when he glanced down, something that made him stop in confusion. What was the gunner planning? At least it looked as if he was planning something. He had but a second to think of the possibilities when he was rolled, suddenly looking up into crimson eyes that were staring at him hungrily.

“And what are you up to, Valentine?” he asked quietly, almost purring the words. He lay there silent as Vincent straddled his waist, strong legs holding him captive as fingers fumbled with the clasp on the Turk’s slacks. He arched his hips up to help, almost smirking when he heard the gasp from his companion. Soon enough though, the cloth barrier was gone, leaving them with skin to skin contact that was warm enough to cause a drop of perspiration to roll down Tseng’s forehead.

“Nothing much,” came the soft reply, fingers dragging painfully slow down the other’s stomach.

Arching into it, the Turk sent Vincent a questioning look. The gunman was obviously enjoying this and was intent on going as far as his intoxicated body allowed him to, yet Tseng still found something strange about the whole thing. Wasn’t Vincent involved with one of the scientists back in his days as a Turk? A female scientist? Then why were they there? “Vincent?”

“Hmm?”

The hummed word carried the space between them, making Tseng shiver a bit. “Why is it,” he began, tipping his head and crossing his arms behind it, “that you’re doing something like this? I was under the impression that you were attracted to women.”

Vincent paused a moment, thinking over the words. Then he slowly lowered himself just above Tseng, his lips curved with a soft smirk. “I’ve always liked both men and women, if you must know.” He gave a little chuckle that bordered on a giggle, one of the few signs that he was actually intoxicated.

Tseng nodded a little as a hard kiss was laid on his mouth, his lips parting to accept it. It did make sense, what with the rumors he had heard from the others. According to them, Vincent was fairly close to his male companions, a little more than he was to his female ones. But that brought up another issue.

Turning his head just slightly, the Turk broke the kiss, holding a hand to Vincent’s mouth when he tried to advance again. “You are serious about this?” Vincent nodded, running a hand down Tseng’s leg as emphasis. “Then how should we… do this?” He wasn’t sure why, but he felt awkward asking such a thing from a man he had just truly become acquainted with this morning and who had been his enemy in a way before then. Well, he thought, going over their past run-ins. He did save my life once before so I suppose I am a little more acquainted with him than I think. He shook the thought away as Vincent sat back, jostling them both.

The gunman’s eyes were giving him a straight-forward look. “I have no objection to being the… the… receiver if you’re more comfortable giving.” He looked faintly proud of the way he had put things, something that was almost enough to give Tseng a laugh. But what Vincent had said had cleared things up at least a little.

“So, you don’t mind?” The ebony head above him shook. “All right then.” He sat up, getting caught in another rough kiss. Fingers entangled themselves in his hair as hips rocked into his own, forcing a groan from Tseng. Tingling sensations passed through the two as tongues touched once more, fingertips dancing over sensitive skin. The silence that had started hovering in the background broke through, accentuated only by hitched breaths and soft moans, both seeming to grow in volume and amount.

Realizing he had been caught up in the seemingly mad rush of kisses and caresses, Tseng threw back his head and sucked in a breath of air. Without even realizing it, he had maneuvered Vincent into a rather appealing position, ruby eyes peeking through a fall of onyx hair. Swallowing as he tried to regain what had happened to the last few minutes, he peered down the soft stretch of fair skin that made up Vincent’s back, his own hands settled comfortably on the curves of slender hips.

Another soft sound made its way to Tseng’s ears as Vincent’s hips bucked, the gleam in his eyes making him more wanton that the Turk had ever thought possible. He would definitely have to make a note to keep Reno and alcohol away from Vincent if he would be willing to jump into bed with the first person he saw when drunk. Another shift of hips threw that thought completely aside, along with any apprehension he had had about this. A deep breath and a whispered hiss later confirmed that as fact as he thrust himself into the gunman.

Shoulders tensed as mouths set free a flurry of sounds, some quiet and some rather loud, the latter coming from Vincent who was busy arching back against the Turk. Dark hair spilled over pale skin as fingertips tightened on hips, the slow motions quickening until they reached an almost ridiculous pace. Sharp cries seemed to flow from Vincent’s lips like water, each one soaking into Tseng’s mind until he was sure he would go crazy.

Each cry, each moan, each breathy gasp for more kept Tseng going until he was sure he would break. Yet somehow he managed to stay holding on to the present, the sudden shout of his name all but blinding him to everything except the gunner. Muscles tightened around him and he gasped sharply, somehow forcing his mind to follow Vincent’s orders. The pace quickened, each time they came together driving Tseng deeper within the other. More shouts, the volume of each surpassing the one before it, rang through the room and the Turk realized his name had become somewhat of a mantra on the lips of the gunman. Somehow it made him all the more confident about the moment, even though he was sure there was little room for improvement there, and he let loose, wrapping his arms tightly around Vincent’s waist as he gave all he could.

The gunner squirmed in his grasp slightly, arching hard into the forceful motions racking his body. Ebony hair flowed over porcelain shoulders as Tseng tipped his head to nip at the graceful curve of Vincent’s neck, accepting and liking that he had full possession of the gunman. It might have been a somewhat random night of drinking that had led to this, but somewhere in his mind, Tseng liked the idea that it had and was happening. And happening rather quickly.

Vincent shuddered in his arms, a strangled cry that resembled the Turk’s name leaving his lips. Holding him closer, Tseng felt the gunman’s climax under and around him, making him drag in a gasping breath. The musky scent of sex tinged the air he sucked down, the flavor staying in his mouth surely as if he had tasted the gunman’s release. Taking another breath as he felt his own body tremble, Tseng found it a little more than interesting that he liked that taste, that scent filling the air. However, his thoughts left him a moment later as the sensation that had been hiding in the bottom of his gut, ready to strike, overwhelmed him and left him reeling in the blinding white of his own ending.

How long it took for the feeling that he could fade away left, Tseng didn’t know. What he was sure of was that there was a very flushed and almost collapsing man beneath him, his own knees shaking on the rumpled bedspread. Just about to lose the rest of his strength, Tseng managed to lean over the gunner again, Vincent’s head turning to let dilated burgundy eyes look back at him. A weak smile made it onto the Turk’s face, one that was mirrored on Vincent’s until a kiss took it away, the salty taste of the other’s lips making him all but irresistible.

Finally the need to breathe drove them apart and Tseng collected the pieces of his mind once more, willing himself to part completely from Vincent. There was a soft groan, one that sounded more of disappointment than pain, and Tseng gave a light chuckle as he let himself fall to the bed. Turning his face so he could at least learn how to breathe again, he lay there, feeling comfortable to an extent he hadn’t felt for a while.

An arm draped over his shoulders and Tseng glanced to his other side, a little shocked to see Vincent resting his head on the Turk’s shoulder. However, he had never imagined Vincent would do half of the things he had tonight, sober or not. Now that he had been shown something new, Tseng was sure that he couldn’t count on any assumptions he held of the gunman anymore. But it just didn’t seem like Vincent to be so… snuggly.

Rolling to accommodate the gunner more, Tseng slowly resolved to hold Vincent. It wasn’t that he was opposed to cuddling or its sort, but he was still taken aback by the fact that it was Vincent whom he was cuddling. He lay there for a while, watching as the gunman slowly let a content smile onto his lips and drifted off, burying his face against Tseng’s neck. Calm breaths against his skin let him know that Vincent was asleep and probably would be for the next six hours at least, but for some reason he was reluctant to move. He knew it would be safe to do so, yet something was holding him there and pulling him towards his own slumber.

A sudden thought flashed through Tseng’s mind. Tomorrow. Tomorrow was the meeting to decide if Vincent should stay or not. He had to have his defense for the gunman ready if it was needed. But… it was warm next to the other, the light breaths on his neck a tiny comfort that was leading him towards sleep. He still had tomorrow morning to finish, right? Besides. He was confident there would be no problem anyway. So why leave the embrace he had unexpectedly found himself in and the sleep that he had contemplated getting anyway? It could always wait, after all.

========================

Another day of papers, papers and more papers. Straightening the stack he had just finished reading over, Tseng laid them on the corner of his desk. There was one job down. Now only three more…

He groaned softly, twisting his neck. He had pulled something last night and was seriously regretting whatever had caused the injury now. It had decided to show up right in the middle of the meeting that morning, sending rather fierce twinges down his shoulders and back. But he had endured somehow, even ignoring the President’s questioning looks. His eyes flicked to the folder on the edge of his desk, a sheaf of papers sticking out. How Vincent would take the news, he didn’t know. He just knew there was bound to be some embarrassment surrounding them when they did meet today.

Almost as if there was a hidden cue—Tseng suspected it of being in the hallway so Reno always knew when to come in—a loud and amused laugh rang outside of his door. Sitting back in his chair, he waited for the door to swing open and for the redheaded Turk to give one of his classic greetings. However, when the door finally did open, Reno wasn’t alone. Vincent was standing behind him, a bright flush stretched across his pale cheeks until they almost matched his cloak. Reno, grinning and lightly clapping the gunman on his back, glanced up to give Tseng a thumbs up before making himself very scarce.

Bringing his eyes to the gunner, Tseng tilted his chair back and folded his hands. He closed his eyes, trying to act as professional as was possible in a situation like this. “Vincent. Good morning.”

Vincent, however, remained as silent as possible, his face turning an even brighter shade of pink. Tseng glanced at the gunman again, waiting and watching to see if he would do anything. Eventually Vincent pulled himself into speaking, his voice soft. “I am terribly sorry for my behavior last night.” When Tseng gave no response, he continued. “From what I remember, anyway, I acted very out of turn and I apologize for my actions.”

His brow rising a little, Tseng gave the gunman a little smile. “Don’t worry about it, Vincent. It honestly does happen more than you would think.” At the sight of Vincent relaxing slightly, he held out the folder. “The decision was made.”

Taking the folder, Vincent flipped it open and read the first page. “So, I am…”

“Back in the Turks.” Tseng gave him another smile, congratulating him. “It was also decided that based on your standing before, you will be moved up a rank.” He glanced around the room. “I hope they intend on giving us a bigger office,” he said absently.

“Us?” Vincent’s surprise was evident on his face for only a moment before it was hidden away behind a stoic countenance.

Tseng nodded, picking up a stack of papers that he needed to copy. Standing, he looked around the office again. “They decided to partner you with me. Perhaps this means less office work,” he said hopefully. “It would be nice to get back into the action.”

Vincent grasped Tseng’s arm as he passed, pulling him close. “This has nothing to do with last night, does it?” he whispered. The tone made it evident that he didn’t want to restart his career by sleeping with the boss, so to speak. Even if it had been an accident.

Shaking his head gently, Tseng added another smile. “Nothing. Nothing of it came up and it never will. After all, it was just an accident. Accidents happen all the time. Nothing to get so embarrassed about, right?”

The gunner seemed to think about the question for a moment, finally giving a curt nod as his face took on an expression of complete seriousness. Tseng wasn’t sure even he could muster up a business-like countenance at that moment as well as him. He took a step closer to the gunman, his nose hovering right before Vincent’s as he remembered something from yesterday. “So, Vincent. Did you decide?” A slightly confused look overtook the seriousness on the other’s face until Tseng gave a small chuckle. “Business or pleasure?”

A tiny smile, almost a secret between them, spread across Vincent’s lips. “A little of both, I suppose,” he whispered softly. “After all, it is quite hard to choose when they are one in the same.”