Desha's Reno of the Turks Fan Fiction

Interludes – Scene 31

Scene Notes: Reno wasn’t always such a great dancer… which Rude discovered the hard way.

From Chapter30: Wedding Bells:

“Figures you’re a natural dancer…” she sighed, letting her head rest on his shoulder.

“I’m not,” he replied, with a self-deprecating laugh. “I actually used to have pretty terrible rhythm. Had to play escort to one of the President’s mistresses at a company function a while back, though… there was dancing, and I was expected to participate for some Ifrit-forsaken reason. Tseng made me practice ’til I could do this in my sleep. With Rude…”

Elena’s entire body shook with laughter, and she missed several steps, having to shuffle awkwardly for a moment to catch up to her dance partner. “Poor Rude…” she snickered.

---

“One, two, three… One, two, thr– Reno, are you even paying attention?”

The rookie shuffled awkwardly, trying to get back into step. He succeeded only in trodding on his dance partner’s foot. Again. Rude grunted loudly and glared at him.

“Sorry…” the redhead muttered for what had to have been at least the twentieth time.

“… Can we take a break? Before he breaks something?” Rude asked, pleadingly.

Tseng sighed and switched off the music. “Alright. I suppose a brief rest won’t hurt.”

The two rookies broke apart and Rude limped off to one side of the room, taking a seat and pulling off a shoe to massage the abused appendage. Reno shook his head and made his way over to Tseng instead.

“Boss… Can’t someone else take this assignment? I already told ya… I can’t fuckin’ do this shit. Rude knows what he’s doin’. Send him!”

“I’m afraid I can’t. The president requested you personally.”

Reno blinked, surprised. “Why?” he asked, his tone bewildered. He’d been with the Turks for just over nine months… not even a year yet. And he certainly hadn’t done anything in particular that would have brought him to the attention of the president. Hell, he’d only even met the guy twice.

“He didn’t say… Though given the assignment, I would suspect it’s because you’re young and attractive and… noticeable. You stand out in a crowd, as does your date. Should the press take an interest in the young lady, they’re not as likely to make the connection between her and President Shinra with you standing next to her.”

“… Uh… He knows I’m only seventeen, right?”

“His current mistress is only eighteen,” his mentor responded.

“Yeah… Okay, thanks for that image.” Not that it was any of his business what people got up to in the bedroom. But, hell… Shinra’s own kid was only a couple of years older than the chick the old bastard was fucking. That… was a little creepy in Reno’s expert opinion.

“You’re quite welcome,” Tseng replied, smirking. “Alright… enough. Back to practicing. Rude? If you would?”

Reno distinctly heard his fellow rookie groan. He really couldn’t blame him for being less than enthusiastic about this. They’d been at it since lunch time. Tseng seemed bound and determined that his protege master the waltz before the end of the workday… or at least he had when they’d started four hours ago. The rookie could see the frustration building.

“Perhaps if you lead for awhile…” the senior Turk said to Rude, as he started the song over again. At this rate, Reno mused, he was going to be hearing that music in his dreams tonight. Or his nightmares. Whichever he ended up having after this disaster. He really didn’t know why this was so fucking difficult. He had no problems following Tseng’s example in combat training, and he’d scored exceptionally high – apparently an all-time Turk record, in fact – on his agility and coordination evaluations during his recent Hell Week. One would think dancing would come naturally to him. But something about trying to move in time with a rhythm other than his own natural one threw him.

“…” Rude remained silent, but moved into position, grasping Reno’s right hand with his, while the other settled on his upper back. The redhead sighed in resignation and let his own free hand rest on his partner’s shoulder, already dreading the attempt.

“And… One, two, three…” Tseng began, as Rude took a step forward.

He tried… he really did. But unfortunately, he started out immediately on the wrong foot, which inevitably resulted in the now-familiar panicked shuffle to correct the mistake. Reno cringed empathetically as his foot came down hard on Rude’s again. Tseng roughly pinched the bridge of his nose, and murmured something the redhead didn’t quite catch… though he was fairly certain it had been in Wutaiian, and if he’d had to venture a guess he’d have bet it was something along the lines of a plea for patience.

Rude’s patience, meanwhile, seemed to be wearing thin… though to his credit, he continued on for several more minutes, trying to guide the younger man into the proper rhythm. Right up until one of his fellow rookie’s missteps caught him by surprise and sent him stumbling forward himself. Reno staggered back, trying to restore both men’s balance, but it was too late. The pair crashed to the floor, in a tangle of limbs.

“Oh, for Leviathan’s sake…” Tseng sighed, as he picked his protege up bodily before offering a hand to Rude and pulling him to his feet as well. “I think you may actually be getting worse.”

“Have a heart, boss… I’m gonna end up cripplin’ Rude at this rate. Assumin’ he doesn’t just kill me first in self defense…”

The Wutaiian glanced at his watch, and cast the pair a defeated look. “Perhaps I am pushing you too hard. I expect you’re both getting tired by now… it’s nearly the end of the day. You’re dismissed. Go ahead and go home.”

“Thank Shiva,” Rude said under his breath.

“We’ll pick this up again first thing in the morning,” he continued, before turning on his heel and exiting the training room. The two rookie Turks looked at one another.

“Feel like callin’ in sick tomorrow, partner?”

“… Definitely think I’m coming down with something,” Rude agreed.

“I heard that,” Tseng’s voice called back to them. “Don’t even think about it.”

The only answers he received were twin groans.

~fin~