The Simple Pleasures
folder
Final Fantasy VII › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
3
Views:
710
Reviews:
9
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Final Fantasy VII › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
3
Views:
710
Reviews:
9
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Final Fantasy VII, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
The Simple Pleasures
Author's Notes: This is an
RP session turned story. I give half the credit to Kazzii, who, by all
means, has opened my eyes at last to other RP pairings that my other roleplaying
buddies find distasteful. This contains spoilers as to the upcoming film,
Final Fantasy VII: Advent Children. Other than that, I've heard it's a
nice piece of writing, and Kazzii loves it too, therefore, if you've seen the
movie and don't mind this pairing, read on! If you haven't seen the movie
and do not care that there are spoilers herein, and want only lust and sex,
please go to chapter 3 and leave me alone. Or read the whole thing.
Please R&R, C&R.
bag of groceries balanced in my arms. Inwardly I was cursing my rotten luck
because, let's be honest, Rude wasn't a real great mechanic and I was risking my
mortal life driving that yellow, grungy piece of shit all the way down the road
to the store. The engine cut out only as I was just turning around the bend with
the Inn in sight. I put the worthless can in park and walked the rest of the
way.
"Rude!" I called into the house, and being the fucking clumsy idiot that I am at
five in the afternoon without my booze, I snarled as I kicked the leg of the end
table by the window. The lamp wobbled dangerously like a drunk ballet dancer and
I caught my breath, waiting helplessly for it to fall. But it found its balance
again; I exhaled with an umsympathetic eye-roll. Rude would understand if
I broke his lamp. I would buy him another, like last time, like always.
Now I hobbled over to the counter in the kitchen, after wrestling open the rest
of the doors - fuck, didn't Rude know when to leave them open?! - and dumped my
cargo on the polished dark wood surface.
I wiped my brow, raking a hand through my unruly red hair. "Rude!" I called
again. "Come on, hurry up an' help me put these away, yo!"
Rude appeared in the doorway, blotting out the bright, angelic light that poured
in through the Venetian shades. "Did you get the beer?" he asked. He looked good
in his uniform with those broad shoulders and leather gloves. I smirked.
"Is that all you can say? And yeah, I got the booze." I reached deep into one of
the bags and produced the twelve-pack of Smirnoff. I reached into another bag
and produced a second . Rude's eyebrows lifted.
"You think we're going to finish all that?"
"Shit, yeah. I'll make it the night's goal to get absolutely plastered," I
replied, setting the beer on the counter before rolling my sleeves up, getting
to the task at hand. Milk, butter, sugar, French Vanilla coffee - Rufus's
favorite - among other household items, like bathroom stuff. Soap, shampoo,
toothpaste, toilet paper. Couldn't live without toilet paper! I stopped to
crack open the shampoo Rufus directed me to buy; I took a sniff, barely
concealing a tremor of delight. I loved that smell. I looked over at Rude,
who was busily stocking the freezer with meat, shiny head gleaming with a fresh
shave. It was just a shame Rude shaved his hair down to nothing.
While I finished, I tried to imagine Rude with some kind of haircut. The scent
of shampoo lingered in my senses. I was crazy with wondering where Rufus was
haunting; was he in the library? Maybe. Or maybe he was outside on the balcony,
sitting in his chair and soaking up the sun in silent melancholy. Man,
Boss sure did get depressed lately. I wondered if Rufus would get pissed when
Rude and I started to party hardy. We were both happy losers like that, Rude and
I, pretty content to let ourselves just go, partners in crime. Partners in bed?
Never. But I always wondered about the look that came over his eyes just before
he closed them when we went to bed, or sat up nights to guard the Boss.
That look was rarer these days. But that was only because I'd confided in Rude
like a fool that I was hot for the Boss. Only, I didn't say it in so many words.
Rude wasn't the type to say anything if something was bothering him. He
internalized pretty much everything, and only when there was around ten bottles
of beer in him did he really vocalize anything. But by then, I probably had
twice as much as he did, so I barely remembered what he said anyway, if anything
at all.
Today, while he was placing things in cupboards and putting things away, he
spoke not at all. His secrets, whatever had happened while I was gone for those
few hours, were kept behind closed doors and reflect black shades that seemed to
have grown attached to his head since I'd known him.
I left Rude in the kitchen with a beer in my hand, cracking the cap off with his
nimble fingers. My gaze swept the walls of the bareness of the room with the
Shinra symbol plastered on the wall.
Maybe it was just me, but I felt worse that Rude wasn't going to talk to me. He
wasn't pissed; he just understood. That was the weird thing with Rude, who gave
and gave but never took anything for himself. I almost wanted to smack him in
the face someday and tell him to be an asshole for once and stop being such a
fucking nice-guy. If I asked Rude for a blow-job he'd probably give it to me out
of the close bond of our friendship.
I could almost assume this very thought going through his head: "Reno likes
Rufus. Therefore I should just nod and smile and support him."
Rude was cooking something by the time I found Rufus in his bedroom. The Boss
was sitting
pensively in front of the windows, the blanket hanging around his face. I stood
in the doorway with my elbow up against the door jam, tipping back some of the
drink into my mouth while I watched him, half a mind to pull his blanket away
because really, underneath that, he wasn't ugly at all. At least the
Geostigma had not spoiled that part of him yet. It would not have made me
love him any less, though, that's for damn sure. His hand tapped the arm of the wheelchair. The
ceiling fan was whirring above him gently, and I could take notice of was the
careless way with which the furniture was laid in this room. There was my brown
leather chair askew to the coffee table, a half-eaten bag of chips on top of the
girly (couple fag ones, too, hidden) magazines there, the ugly plaid couch
donated to the Inn a mess - remnants of last night's adventures.
Without asking, I walked around the leather chair to Rufus. I pulled once more
from the bottle before carefully setting it down on the window. The light
flashed through it, turning Rufus's white sheet spotty amber.I leaned close, taking the edge of the sheet and
lifting it slightly. Rufus turned his pale grey eyes on me and I swore I saw a
glimmer of happiness through them.
"You don't smile much no more," I said quietly, and crouched on the floor next
to him, leaning my arm across his, letting my hand dangle close to his knee. I
felt his arm shift underneath mine, move forward and slowly felt his cool,
calloused fingers climb into my grasp. I held his hand, confused, slightly
scared, but pleased as hell.
Suddenly his fingers spasmed and he tightened his grip. My knuckle joints
popped; it was painful shit - he had a hell of a grip - but I held on just as
tightly, forcing myself to bite my lip, feeling my eyes burn empathetically for
him.
The look of pain left his face at last. I saw his lips relax again and his
fingers loosened from mine as he began to shift a little in his chair."Okay?" I asked gently.
"It's getting worse," he responded half-heartedly. "But at least you've got your
beer."
"Hey. You could drink with us, you know!" I pointed out roughly, leaning my head
on his shoulder. He didn't respond, and I began to wonder if maybe I was acting
a little too weird for him.
Then he said, "I know."
But it had nothing to do with him sharing a night of drunken antics with us. It
was the sort of heavy, hard affirmation of some forbidden truth. And without any
doubt, I knew that Rude had betrayed me completely. That Rufus knew that I loved
him - not just wanted a warm little spot in his bed - was almost worse than if I
just had a passing crush. That Rude had opened his mouth and blabbed one
of my most personal secrets to the last person I ever wanted to know.
This was personal. I stood up, reached for my beer. I grabbed it and took a long
drink, pretending absolute ignorance - just in case I was wrong. I was jittery
with anger, pissed off beyond belief. I hoped to high Heaven I was wrong about
my secret. "Well, Rude's got something cooking now," I said, cursing my
stammering tongue. "I hope it's not going to be anything like last week's
stroganoff. I swear, any more of that--"
"Please. I don't have time enough for games, Reno. Sit down." The wheelchair
hummed as he turned to face me. My hand gripped the neck of the bottle until I
let it dangle between my two fingers.
Was I blushing, or did I turn pale as the white paint on the walls? Either way,
I was equally as shocked about his admittance to his mortality - that he was...
dying. My Rufus was dying. I didn't sit down. I wanted to lean against
the wall and look at him like he was, sitting there - weak, almost helpless. I
felt the weakness in my legs.
"Don't fuckin' say that," I whispered thickly around my emotion. "It can't be.
We're all working to find a cure. It'll come someday. It has to. Don't
ever say that!"
Rufus pushed back his sheet suddenly, pulling it from his head. His perfect
skin. He was unharmed, as if the Geostigma ravaging his body preserved his good
looks but stole away his strength, his dignity. It was probably his dignity
Rufus missed the most, the ability to command standing up, upright, eyes
blazing. But no more.
He looked like a lost boy from the street now. His hair was combed and neat, but
his eyes were drawn inward and melancholy as anything. I had made him look like
this in some indirect way - all because I decided to open my big fat mouth to
the one I trusted most, next to Rufus.
"Don't look at me like that," Rufus snapped suddenly, tilting his head up. "You
can look at me all you want, but not like that!"
"L-Like what?" I blinked, and suddenly checked my clothes, patting my pockets,
as if to distract myself or figure out what was wrong with me. "How am I looking
at you!"
"Like I'm going to die any minute. If that's true, don't you have something
important to tell me? I want to hear it from your lips. But don't tell me
looking at me with your eyes full of sadness. I can't stand it."
I straightened, sipped my beer, set it on the window sill again and stood in
front of him with my hands on my hips. "How'd you have me look at you, Rufus?
And I ain't got nothin' to say to you! Or Rude, that blabber-mouth shit! I'll
kick his ass, anyway!"
"It must have been important," Rufus said quietly. "You've never threatened to
kick his ass before and meant it." Rufus arched his brow at me, and all at once
I wanted to take his gorgeous hair and rough it up just to piss him off, only to
have him forgive me later after I repent with some obscene chore. He was such a
great guy. Damn it, but why did Rude have to ruin it for me?
"Yeah, well, it was coming to him," I said stiffly, jerking my thumb in the
direction of the kitchen. Just then Rude appeared again in the doorway, his
jacket gone and his shirt untucked.
"Dinner's ready," he said quietly, and then turned to disappear into the dining
room without so much as giving me a second look.
I bristled and looked at Rufus. "You heard the man," I said flippantly. "Let's
get the chow!"
* * * * *
Dinner wasn't so bad. It wasn't cardboard; it was actually pretty good and I
asked Rude if he'd make it again some day, and he quietly said, "Sure thing."
I kept an eye on Rufus as he ate quietly and efficiently. He didn't like his
food touching, so I helped him sometimes cut his food so he didn't do himself
some kind of injury by jabbing himself in the arm like he did last year. It was
embarassing and funny because he really didn't feel any pain at all - that was
about the time we realized he was getting the Geostigma, so naturally it wasn't
that funny anymore.
Rude didn't look at me at all during dinner. I leaned back in my chair and undid
my belt buckle and loosened my pants a bit more, because, well, I tend to stuff
myself to capacity just before bedtime and it was a good time to eat. I was
worried, though. I hadn't answered Rufus's question and it was scaring me the
way it was all so quiet, like someone dropped a bomb under the table and waited
for it to blow us all to shit.
I looked from Rufus, to Rude... back to Rufus again. He was wiping his mouth
with his napkin. I tapped my foot, and then threw my fork onto the plate. Rufus
jumped and jerked his head over at me as I got up.
"I'm turning in," I said, waving my hand at the table. "Forget drinkin' tonight,
Rude, I don't feel like it."
"What?" Rude made as if to get up, but Rufus gave him a signal to remain seated,
which pissed me off more. Great. Now they can be alone, and Rude can blab
more of my secrets to my one true--
"Wait a goddamn sec, yo!" I turned back and leaned over the table, jabbing Rude
in the shoulder. "How come I have to fucking leave?""You don't," Rude said tentatively, looking
calmly up at me. "You're the one who decided--"
"Reno, maybe you'd better calm down. Your pants are about to fall off, anyway,"
Rufus supplied jokingly. Blushing, I grabbed my pants and jerked them back up
good and proper.
"Reno?" Rude tilted his head. "When we're finished, do you think it's time?"
"Oh, yes. My favorite part of the day," Rufus mumbled, and lowered his head,
plucking at his napkin with his nervous habit. Nothing wrong with that, I
thought.
I sniffed and pouted, plucking at my pockets for a cigarette. "Yeah, what?"
"For the Boss's bath."
Rufus had been given a bath every other day, nearly every day, provided by us
two loyal servants, Rude and Reno.
I grinned, and cracked my knuckles. Rufus blushed slightly, and I immediately
quit my gloating in order to rub his shoulder. "I'm sorry, Boss... but hygiene's
important, man."
"That's funny. When was the last time I saw you take a shower?"
"I didn't know you liked to watch, Rufus!" I laughed harder when he blushed
more, but he was smiling at least, and that made all the difference. "Otherwise
I'd wash up a whole lot more!"
"Ew. Just... ew." Rude gave me a look; I laughed. Immeidately we regained a sort
of easy, companionable levity between us. I knew for sure that this weekend
would be alright.