Tough Love

Far as I'm concerned, there is only one creation on the Planet that can prove the existence of Higher Power, and that is the donut. Whoever invented it must have had some kind of Divine Inspiration. Look at it…it's round, it's sweet, it's cake, but it's also fried. Is there anything more uniquely perfect? They have entire classification systems devoted to the donut: jelly-filled, éclairs, bear claws, glazed, fritters, beignets, sprinkled... Only a food so utterly diverse and yet so amazingly simple as the donut would have its own taxonomy.

Genus Donut.

Booya.

I was about to enjoy my own glazed strawberry jelly-filled version while sitting in the corner of the Shinra commons, when an ominous, black shadow eclipsed all light from the room and left me feeling less than secure about my future. Swallowing nervously, I placed my Almighty Donut gingerly down on the napkin on top of the table in front of me and brushed the flecks of glazed icing from my fingertips. Not even my savory little fat pill could save me now.

"Hello, Rude," I ground out.

Rude grunted once and pulled a chair up from a nearby table, turning it and straddling it backwards. Resting his elbows on the table and lacing his meaty fingers, he turned his head toward me as I met my reflection in the lenses of his glasses.

I sighed. "What's it gonna be, Rude," I asked defeated. "Ultimate wedgie? Indian Burn? Half Nelson? Or you got something stored up just for this occasion?"

He smirked and slowly removed his glasses, folding them deliberately and tucking them into his blazer pocket. He had me and he new it. And he was gonna drag it out all damn day if he could. Rude is that proverbial bully that would steal your lunch money from you everyday in school. Then he'd take your watch and maybe your shoes too if he thought they looked neat. What people don't know is that he'd take that stuff and give it to the poor kids he lived with on the street. A regular fuckin' Robin Hood that guy, without the tights, of course. And oh, what a charming thought.

Still, cuddly teddy bear he is not. In fact, with friends like Rude who needs enemas?

There's no way I could ever beat him in a physical contest. It'd be like Frankenstein vs. Mighty Mouse...after the mouse has been sitting on the couch for a few years collecting unemployment and drinking beer and eating chocolate chip cookies. Believe me, my gil ain't on the mouse for this match. But I can beg, plead, wheedle and whine like nobody's business, and I won't go down without a fight. I'll fight my own way, but I will fight.

"No, Reno…I'm letting you off the hook for that one," he said with a vague little half-smile that somehow didn't make me believe him. "Consider it your one and only free throw."

I narrowed my eyes and studied him for a moment. "What's the catch?"

"Meeting in ten. Tseng's office."

I played absently with the corner of the napkin having suddenly lost my appetite. "Ten, huh?"

Rude slowly nodded once, still studying me for a reaction. When I didn't say anything, he leaned toward me folding his arms over the table top. "Care to talk about it now?"

I thought about it for a moment. No...no I didn't. "You know, you could just choke me or something now and put me out of my misery." Rude shook his head for an answer. Smiling hopefully, I added, "I'll be your best friend?"

"Is that a threat?” he said dryly. "Why don’t you just drop this nonsense and tell me why you’re suddenly so afraid of Tseng."

Slumping back into my chair with an explosive sigh, I dug my fingers into my eyes and rubbed them until I saw stars. "I’m not afraid of him," I sighed. That was the truth. I wasn’t afraid of Tseng in the least. I was afraid of how I felt for him. Now that. That was scary as shit.

"Then, what?" he prodded.

"We had a..." A what? A torrid affair? A meaningful union of two souls? A good fuck? Yeah, I could see Rude's face if I said any of that. "...a...a misunderstanding," I finally decided on, which was true enough from a certain point of view, and ambiguous enough to hopefully get Rude the hell off my back.

Rude didn’t seem the slightest bit phased. Not even an eyebrow twitch. Good thing, as I was hoping that would be enough to shut him up. Oh, I know this was just Rude’s way of making sure I was okay. Hell, despite how much I make fun of him, most days I actually consider myself lucky to have him as a friend. He's no saint, but he's the only real friend I've got. Granted, in our line of work we don’t get many opportunities to make friends, so the pickin' are fairly slim. But maybe it’s a little more than that. Somehow I think we both need this friendship to remind us that we are still human beings after all.

Which was a whole ‘nother reason to keep everything to myself. God knows I’d done my fair share of chasing people away in my lifetime, so much so that I could now count all of my friends on one finger. And there he sat. I was not going to mess this up. Or if I was, it wasn’t going to be because of this. Not to mention, I depend on Rude for a whole lot more than just his spectacular company. Imagine if he hesitated for just one second longer than he should have because he’d thought a little less of me now... Not a warm thought. In fact, it’s a very cold, cold thought that just so happens to come from about six feet under the ground. I’m only 25 and I still haven’t had a chance to write a decent epitaph. So far all I've managed to come up with is, "Here lies Reno: Jerk, Turk and Outta Work." Not exactly what I want sitting on my head for all eternity. There’s a lot more things to live for than errant hormones...not sure what they are right now, but give me a day or so, I’m sure I’ll think of something.

"So talk to him," Rude suggested, simply.

"You were the one telling me earlier not to try and talk to Tseng," I complained, exasperated. "Would you make up my friggin' mind?"

"No, what I said is that he's not small talk material. But if you have a problem with him, one that could affect your job, then you better damn well talk to him."

"You make it sound like that's the easiest thing in the world."

"Tseng is not completely unreasonable," he shrugged.

"Yeah, well he's not completely reasonable, either," I remarked.

Rude smirked in return. "I'm sure you'll figure something out."

I leaned forward and thumped my elbow on the table top, dropping my chin in my hand. "Gee. Thanks. Now, if you'd kindly get the fuck lost, I'd like to finish my donut in silence."

He stared at the pastry for a moment with one eyebrow quirked in amusement. "You're really gonna eat that thing?" he asked in slight disbelief.

It was as if I was about to break some sacred rule, the way he'd asked. I knew he doesn't have much of a sweet tooth, but shit, everyone loves donuts! Leave it Rude to be difficult that way. It probably had more to due with the fact that no one was exactly sure the pastry case in the commissary ever really changed from day to day. God only knows how old these things are. But today, I really needed some kind of simple comfort, even if it is in the form of some four-month old fried dough.

I felt the corner of my mouth curl in a sadistic little sneer and shiftily slid my gaze over to him. "No, Rude," I replied, dryly. "I bought it because I was lonely and I wanted the company." He snorted disdainfully, but I wasn't about to let him off that easily. Rude, of all people, should have known that better than anyone. Now for that little extra Reno-slightly-over-the-cliff shove... "You know, the way the light sorta shines off the glaze reminds me of the top of your head. Maybe I'll even name it Rude Junior." I tried a wider grin on for size and found that it didn't even feel too bad. Besides, it was for a good cause.

Rude wasn't the slightest bit impressed. He seemed to seriously consider this for a moment before calmly shooting out his fist and pounding my donut flat. The jelly that had been inside the donut suddenly erupted all over my shirt, and I jumped up out of my chair with a shriek and dove for a pile of napkins. By the time I turned to give Rude one serious ass-chewing for ruining my shirt and my breakfast, I saw him across the other side of the commons briskly heading for the exit.

"Son of a--," I ground out between clenched teeth. I knew there was no way I was going to be able to get that stain off my shirt before I was due up in Tseng's office in less than five minutes, and I'd rather willingly eat one of the Science Lab's specimens than be late to his office. All I needed now was another reason for Tseng to hate me.

Grabbing more napkins, I busily continued to worry the stain from my shirt, denying to myself the whole time that I was only making it worse. Finally, I gave up. Glancing at the clock and then back to my forlorn and flattened little donut, I scraped the compressed cake up in preparation to throw it away. I barely deliberated a second before I concluded that the damn thing would taste the same whether it was round or shaped like an elephant's ass, and I nearly choked on it when I shoved as much of it as I could in my mouth before heading to the exit.

Some comfort. It's only a donut, not a therapist.

And it tasted like shit.