Desha's Reno of the Turks Fan Fiction

Chapter 92: Christmas with the Turks

For a moment, Petra could only stare in abject shock as the sports car teetered over the long drop to the road below. Quickly enough, however, her training kicked in, and and she dashed across the street – only narrowly avoiding another car that sped through the intersection under less than full control – and approached the stranded vehicle.

As she drew closer, her eyes widened, and she was half convinced she was seeing things. The driver of said car was none other than Rufus Shinra.

“Sir!” she called out, and the vice president’s attention focused on her immediately, an expression of surprise very briefly replacing the previous expression of terror. The metal body of the car creaked loudly against the concrete as a stiff wind rocked it back towards the drop, and terror quickly won out.

Petra very slowly and deliberately reached for the door handle, and tugged at it, only to find it locked.

“Sir…” she said, calmly, but loudly enough to be heard through the glass window, “I need you to unlock the door…”

The vice president slowly reached for the lock, but just as he did, the car rocked back again, and his hand immediately returned to the wheel, fingers clenched around it in a white knuckled grip. It was several seconds before he made the attempt again, this time succeeding. As soon as it was unlocked, Petra wrenched open the door and seized him by the arm, hauling him out of the vehicle as she struggled to maintain her own balance on the icy roadway.

The pair of them landed in a heap on the ground, and Petra heard the scraping of metal on concrete as the sudden shift in weight set the car lose from its entrapment. It plummeted to the ground below the overpass. For several seconds they simply sat sprawled there in the snow, the Shinra executive’s eyes locked on the spot the car used to be.

“A-are you alright, sir?” she finally managed to ask. Rufus seemed to snap back to reality with great suddenness, and hurried to untangle himself from the Turk.

“Yes…” he breathed, brushing himself off, and then extending a hand to the Turk to help her to her feet. “Rather miraculously…”

---

“You planning on leaving any for the rest of us?” Rude asked. The object of his attention grinned – or, rather, attempted to do so with his mouth crammed full of cookie – and shrugged. Reno swallowed roughly and snickered.

“Ya snooze, ya lose, Partner…” he replied, with a teasing laugh, “Esme’s Christmas cookies are even better than yours. You want some, you’re gonna have ta fight me for ’em.”

The larger Turk smirked, and as soon as the redhead turned back to the serving tray for another round, he lunged for him, twisting the younger man into a headlock, and effortlessly holding him in place. He calmly pried the just-nabbed cookie from Reno’s hand and popped it into his own mouth.

“Have it your way,” he said, smugly.

“Hey! No fair… I wasn’t ready…” the trapped Turk pouted.

“What are you two doing?” Remy asked, disapprovingly, returning from her brief trip into the kitchen to procure a refill on her hot chocolate.

“They’ve apparently decided that Esme’s cookies are worthy of a battle to the death,” Tseng commented from one of the armchairs near the Christmas tree. “Though… I don’t think it’s going to be a very long battle.”

“And you’re just going to let them behave like children?” the senior Turk inquired, staring pointedly at her superior. Tseng smiled slightly.

“So long as things don’t get out of hand, I hadn’t planned on intervening…” he replied, “It’s certainly far more entertaining than the broadcast of the Costa del Sol Christmas parade on channel ten…”

“Ugh…” Remy groaned in irritation. She rolled her eyes and retreated back the way she’d come.

Rude chuckled to himself as he walked his restrained friend over to the couch and sat them both down. Reno squirmed in his grip, but couldn’t quite find the leverage needed to work himself loose.

“Okay… enough. Lemme go already. Dick.”

Zephyr giggled quietly from where she’d taken up residence on the floor beside the tree, but didn’t otherwise comment on the “fight”. At last, Rude obligingly released his prisoner, and the redhead sat up, shooting him a glare.

“Ya know… I don’t mind the teasing or the headlock or the draggin’ me across the room. But you ate my fuckin’ cookie. Not cool, man.”

“You know there’s around three dozen more where that came from, don’t you?” Rude chuckled.

“Tch… that’s not the point. It’s the principle of the thing…” Reno shot back, folding his arms over his chest in annoyance, “It was my cookie.”

Rude shook his head in amusement and passed his friend a beer from the collection that was chilling in a ice bucket on the side table.

“Better?” he asked..

The younger Turk continued to glower at him for a moment, before his face shifted into a wide grin.

“Much,” he replied, accepting the bottle and cracking it open.

“Heh… well that was anti-climactic…” Victor laughed, “And here I thought we were going to see some blood today…”

“Nah…” Reno said, still grinning, “Esme’d kill us if we ruined her carpets.”

He sighed in content and leaned back against the plush cushions of the couch, relaxing as he took a sip from the cold bottle. This was… nice. No work. No assignments to worry about. No one shooting at them. Just a day to hang out and be a family.

And presents. Couldn’t forget the presents. Rude was really gonna like what he’d found for him this year. Hopefully everyone would, but Rude in particular… he owed. Big time. It wasn’t just the fact that he was always there for him. Or that he went out of his way for him constantly. Or that he made impossible shit, like actually finding someone who fucking knew his mother, happen for him. Rude treated him like a brother. Not some half-assed, adopted, you’re my brother ’cause I say so kind of deal. A realbrother.

“Sir? Um… if you don’t mind me asking…” Zephyr began, eyeing Reno somewhat intently, “Is… there any sort of… er… itinerary? For the party?”

The redhead snickered softly.

“Only when Remy’s the one hostin’…” he replied, nodding in the general direction of the kitchen, “She planned stuff down to the minute the year we had it at her place…”

“I heard that!” Remy’s voice called out from the other room, drawing a smattering of muffled laughter from the more senior Turks in the living room. Tseng smiled lightly at the youngest rookie.

“Try and relax, Zephyr. The Christmas party has always been intended as a… very…informal gathering. I’ve found that the safest way to survive it is to simply let it happen,” he said… and then smirked, “And to avoid allowing Reno to mix your drinks… unless you actually enjoy being hungover the entire next day.”

Vincent laughed and strolled over towards the couch.

“Didn’t know we had our own amateur bartender…”

The redhead looked up at the rookie with a mock-insulted expression.

“Tch… who ya callin’ an amateur, rookie? I was workin’ as a bartender when I got recruited, I’ll have ya know…”

Rude snorted softly. “And the way he makes a drink, I’m amazed the place ever turned a profit. Might as well be pouring the alcohol straight down your throat, as strong as he makes ’em…”

“Hey, I can afford to do it the right way now…” the redhead joked, “Speakin’ of… hey, Esme! You got everything on my list for later, right?”

Veld’s wife poked her head out into the living room with a smile.

“Everything you asked for, Reno…” she assured him.

“I ever tell ya you’re the best?” he said, with a teasing grin.

“Oh, you…” she laughed, rolling her eyes slightly before disappearing again. Reno glanced at his watch, and frowned momentarily.

“Where the heck are Liam, Sykes, ‘n Petra?” he wondered aloud, “They oughta be here by now…”

Even Ryu had managed to beat the trio to the party… though he’d somewhat accidentally volunteered himself for snow removal duty about ten minutes ago, and was presently outside, with Veld, re-clearing the front walkway at Esme’s behest.

The only other figure absent from the party was Felicia… though Reno was fairly certain the teenager would be making an appearance before long. He’d briefly caught sight of her spying on her parents’ guests from the top of the stairs a little while ago.

“I’m sure they’ll be here shortly,” said Tseng, “With all the snow that keeps coming down, the trains are probably running a bit behind schedule.”

“So… not that I’m complaining or anything, but… why does everyone on the team get together at Christmas?” Zephyr asked, curiously, “Instead of going to see family, I mean…”

“Some of us don’t really have another family to go see,” Reno replied with a somewhat indifferent shrug.

“And some of us are estranged from our families for… various reasons,” Tseng added, and Rude nodded slightly in agreement. The redhead glanced up at from the conversation as Remy walked back into the room.

“How ’bout you, Remy? How come you’d rather spend Christmas with us losers instead of going to Mideel or somethin’?” he teasingly asked.

Remy snorted in soft laughter. “Well, for one thing… my parents spend the holidays in Costa del Sol most years. So I usually go there, to see them at some point during our down time, rather than visiting the Mideelian side of the family. Besides… I must grudgingly admit that I rather like you losers. It just wouldn’t feel right, skipping out on our annual tradition.” She smirked slightly, and added, “Though my liver would probably thank me if I did. I’m not sure how many more of your Christmas cookie martinis it can tolerate…”

“Especially since you missed out on them last year,” Rude snickered, and Reno cocked an eyebrow in his general direction. The bald Turk grinned. “You should’ve heard her complaining about it after you and Tseng ended up no-showing… She’ll probably be double-fisting them tonight.”

“Aww… poor Remy,” Reno sniggered, “Guess I’m gonna be makin’ a lot of those this year to make up for it.”

The aforementioned senior Turk rolled her eyes… but, Reno noticed, didn’t offer any sort of protest of the idea. He was about to say something else, but at just that moment, their missing party members opted to finally turn up.

Well… Two of them, anyway.

The front door opened, and Liam and Sykes – trailed by Veld and a slightly frozen-looking Ryu – made their way inside.

“Look who we found wandering up the front path!” the Turk leader declared with a wide smile.

“Tch… ’bout time. We were startin’ to wonder if you guys had just decided to ditch us…” the redhead joked. He grinned. “I was kinda hopin’ you had, actually. I was gonna call dibs on your desserts after dinner.”

Rude gently smacked him in the back of the head.

“I take it the city trains are indeed running a bit late?” Tseng queried, ignoring his protege’s interjection. Sykes chuckled.

“A little, sir… but that’s not why we’re late. Liam decided to get mugged on the way here. And then we ended up having to explain things to station security, and missed our train.”

“What?!” Zephyr gasped, but the senior rookie shook his head. Liam blushed slightly in embarrassment.

“I’m fine… It was just some kid who tried to grab my bag and run. He didn’t get very far with it, since he ran headfirst into Sykes on the stairs. The security guys saw us take him down and came after us as soon as it was all over. We spent like twenty minutes trying to get them to understand that he tried to rob me, not the other way around…”

“Heh… gotta love the transportation department’s rent-a-cops…” Reno snickered.

“What happened to the thief?” Victor asked. Sykes shrugged.

“We let him go. Liam scared the hell out of him first, though. Don’t think he’ll be trying that again. Not today, anyway.”

The redhead grinned and looked over at Rude. “Rookies grow up so fast…” he said, with an exaggerated sigh.

“Some of them. And then there’s you…” Rude teased, to which Reno responded by smacking him in the face with a nearby throw pillow.

“Oh, good… I thought I heard new arrivals,” Esme said, as she walked into the room carrying a tray of mugs and a pitcher of steaming hot cocoa. “Is everyone finally here?”

“Not quite,” Veld replied, “We’re still waiting on Petra.”

It was right about then that Reno’s stomach gave an audible growl… in spite of the fact that he’d been snacking on cookies regularly for the last half hour. Tseng snorted softly and several of the others snickered in response. The redhead rolled his eyes.

“What? It’s dinnertime! I can’t help it if I’m gettin’ hungry…” he protested. Rude laughed and wrapped an arm around his friend.

“Maybe we should start without her… before Reno passes out and misses out on presents later,” he teased.

“Oh, shut up… and pass me the cookies,” Reno chuckled. Rude moved to comply with the request, but was beaten to the punch as a small figure darted out of the kitchen, a tray of fresh cookies in hand. The redhead blinked as Felicia delivered the entire tray to him a moment later.

“Here you go, Reno,” she said, smiling widely. She’d changed clothes since he and Tseng had arrived. Now, instead of the green reindeer sweater she’d been wearing previously, the teenager was decked out in a knee-length red and gold dress, with candy cane-striped leggings underneath and a Santa hat perched on her head.

“Uh… Thanks, Felicia,” he said, in a slightly surprised tone, grabbing two of the sweets off the tray and grinning at her. She giggled softly, and almost as quickly as she and the tray had appeared, she’d jetted off, back into the kitchen.

“… Guess the rest of us don’t get any,” Victor commented, his voice tinged with laughter. Esme laughed quietly.

“She made those herself, especially for Reno,” she replied, in a conspiratory whisper.

Tseng smiled and shook his head. “You know… there was a time when I was her favorite Turk, and received my own personal platter of cookies. It seems I finally have been officially replaced.”

Veld rested a hand on his protege’s shoulder. “I’m sure you’ll learn to cope,” he replied in a serious tone that belied the amused look on his face. “Well… I’m sure Petra’s on her way. Let’s give her a bit longer before we consider starting dinner without her. In the mean time, though…” he said, turning to his wife, “I’ll happily take some of that hot chocolate. And I think Ryu could use some, too.”

Ryu, who was still shivering slightly after his time spent outdoors, graciously accepted a mug from Esme with a quiet word of thanks. He was the only Turk who received one, however, as before the lady of the house could pass out any more, there was a knock at the front door.

“Well,” she said, with a smile, “It sounds like out final guest has just arrived.”

Veld chuckled and made his way over to answer the summons, opening the door, and pausing for a moment, in what Reno was almost certain was utter shock. The redhead craned his neck, trying to see what was going on, but his view was blocked by his position on the couch. The Turk leader, however recovered quickly and gestured towards the living room.

“Please… come in, sir,” he said. And a moment later, the last person Reno had ever expected to see today stepped inside.

---

Tseng was on his feet immediately, not certain what to make of this new development, and by the time he’d joined Veld at the door, Rufus Shinra was standing just inside the entrance. Petra slipped in behind him after knocking the snow off of her boots.

“Er… I would have called ahead, sir,” the young woman began, addressing the two senior Turks. “… but I dropped my PHS in the snow and I couldn’t find it. I thought it better to get the vice president out of the cold than to spend time looking for it.”

Tseng nodded, but largely brushed off her explanation in favor of getting the story from the Shinra heir directly.

“Rufus? What are you doing here?” he asked. The younger man glanced over at the assembly of Turks lounging in the living room of their superior’s home, and shook his head.

“I would prefer to discuss that somewhere a bit more private, if you don’t mind.”

The Turk lieutenant frowned slightly, but quickly followed as Veld escorted both Rufus and Petra upstairs, and into the guest bedroom. He closed the door behind them.

“Now,” Veld began, “What’s going on? Has something happened?”

Rufus glanced over at Tseng somewhat awkwardly.

“I was bored at home, so I thought I’d get out of the house for awhile. There… was a bit of an accident,” he said, somewhat vaguely.

“Are you hurt?” Tseng asked. The executive didn’t seem to be… but Rufus could be stubborn.

“No,” Rufus hurriedly replied, before dropping his gaze and muttering, “Not at present, at any rate…”

The Wutaiian Turk cringed. He knew that tone all too well. He’d certainly heard it enough when Rufus was a child. He’d done something that he’d explicitly been instructed not to by his father… and it had blown up in his face.

“What kind of an accident?” Veld asked, his suspicion growing almost as quickly as Tseng’s.

Rufus sighed.

“The kind that results in one of my father’s cars being towed away in several pieces, I’m afraid…”

“And you’re certain, you’re not injured?” the Turk lieutenant prodded. Rufus rolled his eyes slightly.

“I’m perfectly fine. Due largely to the very fortunate coincidence that your subordinate was walking down the street when it occurred…”

Tseng roughly pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger and squeezed his eyes shut.

“What happened?” he asked, resigned, and to his surprise, the younger man flushed slightly, a very noticeable pink hue staining his cheeks.

“I borrowed Father’s new Roadster X20 prototype for a test drive. It… didn’t handle as well in the snow as I’d expected it to,” he admitted.

“He lost control near the Sector 3 on-ramp, sir,” Petra supplied, “The car went through a guard rail. Obviously, he got out alright, but… the car ended up falling from the overpass.”

“Along with my PHS, else I would have called you myself when it became apparent that Petra’s was lost somewhere between crossing the road and pulling me out of the car,” Rufus grudgingly added, before, Tseng presumed, the Turk lieutenant could chastise him for not having his phone on him.

“Rufus…” Tseng breathed, exasperated.

“I’m aware that it was foolish,” the executive stated, “I really don’t need a lecture.”

“Hmph… something tells me you’re going to get one anyway, sir,” Veld stated, “I’ll see about recovering the car. I’m sure the transportation department’s manufacturing division won’t like the thought of one of their prototypes sitting in an impound lot. Tseng… I’ll leave the vice president to you.” He turned to Petra. “Good work.”

With that, he slipped out of the room, shutting the door in his wake.

“I second that praise,” Tseng added, “but would you mind joining the others now, Petra? The vice president and I need to have a… private conversation.”

“Yes, sir…” Petra replied, flashing Rufus a sympathetic look before following the Turk leader downstairs. Tseng turned back to the younger man, and folded his arms over his chest, staring him down for a moment.

“You know… I think this may be a first for me. I’ve never had to formally reprimand someone on Christmas Eve, and I’ve certainly never had to do so to a member of the board of directors,” he stated. “You drove a car off of an overpass.”

“In my defense, I was doing far more sliding than driving at the time…” Rufus replied, though the senior Turk got the impression that the younger man was more than a little embarrassed by the situation.

“You could have been killed,” Tseng countered, and Rufus glared at him.

“Believe me, I’m well aware of that!” he snapped… though the bravado was short-lived. “It’s certainly not the closest I’ve ever been to death… but it was considerably closer than I ever wanted to be again. If Petra hadn’t been there… I’m not entirely certain what would have happened.” His shoulders drooped a bit. “Father isn’t going to be pleased when he finds out…”

“I’m not especially pleased myself,” Tseng pointed out, and to his surprise, Rufus smiled faintly.

“No, I expect you’re not. But you’re far more forgiving, even when I’ve thoroughly annoyed you…”

The Wutaiian Turk sighed and shook his head. He didn’t contradict his young friend, however. The senior Shinra was never happy when his son did something he regarded as foolish or beneath him. And though Rufus on occasion liked to antagonize his father, Tseng suspected that he truly wasn’t looking forward to him finding out about this transgression. Not only had he put himself in danger, he’d destroyed a – rather expensive, from what Tseng knew of it – company prototype that had only just come off the assembly line. Not to mention the potential liability inherent in sending a car careening over an overpass and onto a public roadway. Because no actual harm had come to Rufus, President Shinra was not going to focus on the positives of this incident… namely that his son was unhurt. He was going to set his sights firmly on the negatives.

And in the end, it was Tseng’s duty to protect the young man. Even from his own Father.

“Sit down,” he said, in a slightly less irritated tone, gesturing to the bed. Vaguely confused, Rufus obeyed, and sat. “I assume your father dismissed the staff for the evening, as he usually does on Christmas Eve?”

The young executive nodded.

“Then no one actually saw you take the car. It’s entirely possible it could have simply been stolen. I’ll speak with Veld, and so long as he has no objections, should the President ask, you will tell him that I invited you to our little get-together. You arrived with me, and you have been here since early this afternoon.”

Rufus blinked. “You’re… not going to tell Father what I did?”

“I’ll admit… it’s a bit out of character,” Tseng answered with a teasing smile. “But… it is Christmas, after all, and I know what he can be like.” He took on a much more serious expression. “Don’t expect it to become a regular occurrence.”

“No… of course not,” the younger man eagerly agreed, looking decidedly relieved.

“Good. Then let’s go and join the party. Veld’s wife is getting rather anxious to serve dinner, and my Turks are getting rather anxious to eat.”

“You intend that I stay?” Rufus asked, surprised. Tseng chuckled.

“It would hardly be convincing were you to say that I invited you and you left before the party had even begun.” He smiled. “Esme won’t mind setting an extra place at the table. In fact, she probably already has.”

He pulled Rufus to his feet and placed an arm around his shoulders as he escorted him back downstairs to the gathering below.

---

Rufus couldn’t help but feel decidedly out of place amongst his subordinates, despite the fact that Veld’s wife was extraordinarily welcoming and kind to him. He didn’t really belong there… and for once, it had nothing to do with his much, much higher social standing.

He’d always heard Tseng refer to “his family”, when speaking of his fellow Turks, and sitting there, watching them, it was hard not to view them as such. Even the new additions to the team seemed at ease and jovial, as though they had been doing this for years. Their comfort, however, seemed to amplify his own feelings of being the odd man out. Tseng may have considered him family… even the Slum Rat might see him as something more than just his superior by now. But the others? For Ramuh’s sake, he wasn’t even certain of some of their names when he’d first joined them at the dinner table.

And yet… somehow it was still better than being dragged to another executive holiday party by his father. At least here, nothing was explicitly expected of him. At corporate functions, his father demanded he “network”… something he generally loathed, even on a good day.

Even so, when the gifts had been brought out shortly after dinner, Rufus had opted to make a tactical withdrawal into the kitchen to avoid awkwardly sitting there while everyone else opened them.

“Soooo,” an all too familiar voice behind him suddenly drawled, intruding upon his quiet musings. Rufus mentally groaned, and turned to find the Slum Rat himself, leaning against the doorframe of the kitchen. The redhead grinned at him, and proceeded to step forward on slightly unsteady feet and hand him a glass of… something. “What’s this I hear ’bout you stealin’ a car ‘n sendin’ it flying off an overpass?”

“I didn’t steal a car,” Rufus sneered. “It belongs to Shinra Company, and therefore belongs to me.”

Reno snickered.

“Okay, fair enough… but you still wrecked it, right?”

“What’s it to you?” he demanded, rolling his eyes. That the man was inebriated was was fairly obvious. His words had taken on a noticeable slur.

“Just tryin’ to decide if this tops the time I stole Tseng’s car ‘n got arrested or not,” the redhead replied. Rufus narrowed his eyes.

“When did you steal Tseng’s car?”

Reno took a sip of his own drink and shrugged. “It was awhile ago. I was still a rookie.”

“Hmph… and you’re still alive to tell the tale? I must admit, I’m rather shocked Tseng didn’t skin you alive for such a transgression.”

“You ‘n me both, sir,” he replied, grin widening, “So what actually happened, anyway? Boss says we’re all s’pposed to confirm you were here all afternoon if anyone asks.”

Rufus snorted softly. “I… misjudged how bad the roads were, and overestimated the vehicle’s ability to compensate.” He absently took a swig of whatever it was the Slum Rat had given him, and almost immediately choked as the strong alcohol flavor hit the back of his throat with a vengeance. “What in the Nine Hells is in this?!” he managed between coughing and gasping for air.

“A little of everything,” the Turk replied, chuckling, “Heh… Guess I shoulda warned ya. I’m makin’ ’em pretty strong tonight.”

“Ugh… serving this swill, you’re going to be single-handedly responsible for giving your entire team alcohol poisoning,” he said, glancing at the unassuming liquid in disgust, before setting it aside on the counter. The redhead sniggered and continued to imbibe his own drink.

“I was kinda hopin’ it might loosen ya up a little…” he offered, and Rufus glared at him, opening his mouth to respond, but the younger man continued. “Come on, Rufus. It’s a party. Try ‘n have a little fun instead of hidin’ out in the kitchen all night.”

Rufus folded his arms over his chest, and looked away, his gaze finally settling on the lightly falling snow outside the window on the far wall.

“I’m not one of you,” he said simply.

“Tch… So?” Reno responded, and Rufus turn back to him, somewhat incredulous at the response. The slum rat dramatically rolled his eyes. “Literally no one cares.” He paused a moment, considering. “Well… couple of the rookies might, but that’s just ’cause they’re still kinda terrified of you. Point is, Tseng considers you family. That’s good enough for the rest of us. Quit sulkin’ back here ‘n come have some fun. We miss ya! ‘Sides… the games are gonna start. You can be on me ‘n Rude’s team…”

The vice president narrowed his eyes at the Turk in suspicion. Tseng’s pet slum rat frequently had a tendency to be overly familiar when speaking to him… but not typically to quite this extent.

“Just how drunk are you?”

The redhead just grinned.

Rufus shook his head. “Why are you so concerned about whether or not I’m enjoying myself, anyway?”

“‘Cause it’s Christmas, ‘n Christmas shouldn’t suck. Not even for a stuck up pain in the ass like you,” he said, laughing slightly. “Plus… yeah. I’m definitely about halfway to bein’ hammered, so I like you a lot more than I usually do right now.”

Rufus snorted softly in vague amusement. “You are easily the oddest creature I’ve ever had the misfortune to encounter…” he muttered. All the same, he retrieved the drink he’d abandoned on the counter, and handed it back to the party’s designated bartender. “Fine. Make me something that’s actually palatable, and I’ll put in an appearance at this party of yours for awhile.”

“Done,” the Turk agreed, grin widening.

---

Tseng sighed quietly and wrapped a blanket around Liam’s unconscious form. He probably should have stopped the senior rookie after his second Ifrit’s Revenge went down entirely too easily… but to be honest, he’d gotten a little more swept up in the merriment of the gathering than usual himself. Though he had a feeling that his own hangover was going to be nothing compared to Liam’s tomorrow morning.

“Tch… thought the kid learned his lesson in Wutai…” a sleepy sounding voice somewhat drunkenly slurred from a short distance away. Tseng smirked slightly.

“I suspect he’ll be getting a pointed reminder after tonight.”

He crossed over to where his protege was half curled up on the end of the couch, and plucked the mostly empty glass from his hand, setting it safely aside on an end table. The redhead yawned, and closed his eyes.

“Merry Christmas. Wake me up when breakfast’s ready…” he murmured. Tseng chuckled… and his laughter was joined a moment later by an amused snort just behind him. He turned and took another blanket from the pile Veld had just returned with, tucking it around the younger Turk.

“Well… I think we’ve done our part, supporting Midgar’s liquor industry for another year,” the Turk commander said, teasingly.

“Yes, sir…” Tseng agreed, smiling slightly as his hand trailed along the redhead’s cheek momentarily before turning away to see to the rest of the team.

“I gave Rufus the guest room,” Veld added, “So I’m afraid you’re stuck down here tonight. Incidentally… I don’t think Liam is the only one who’s going to be living a life of supreme regret for awhile tomorrow.”

“I suspect several of us will wish we’d shown a bit more restraint tonight, sir… Myself included,” Tseng sighed. Veld clapped him lightly on the back and grinned.

“Well… it’s only once a year, after all,” he chuckled, and resumed seeing to his Turks’ comfort. Tseng chuckled quietly and moved to assist. His mentor was perfectly correct in that statement. Tseng had never been one to over-indulge on anything that might be even remotely considered a regular basis. In fact, his present condition was the result of the combined efforts of his mischievous protege and a certain executive that had crashed their party. He wasn’t certain how or when Reno had talked Rufus into joining him in the endeavor, but it was no coincidence that both young men had been plying him with drinks for much of the evening.

He’d gone along with it, largely because he rather liked seeing Rufus finally relax and enjoy himself a bit. Tseng was well aware that he’d been rather uncomfortable at first. He smiled faintly to himself. This was the first time he’d been able to spend the holidays with both of them. It was unlikely to become a new tradition, and he would have preferred that it had not been the result of the destruction of Company property… but he was grateful that things had worked out the way they had.

---

Rufus made his way, somewhat unsteadily, towards the upstairs hallway that lead towards the guest room Veld had directed him to. He never should have accepted anything from that damned Slum Rat… There was a very good reason he seldom drank more than a glass or two of wine at dinner parties. He didn’t enjoy being hungover the next morning, and that was almost certainly the condition he was destined for.

In spite of his present state, though… he found that he had very few regrets. Tseng’s blasted protege had done him a bit of a favor, dragging him out to socialize. In the end, Rufus had ended up enjoying himself immensely. For a brief time, he had temporarily ceased to be the second highest ranking member of the Shinra Company board of directors, and was welcomed among his subordinates. It had been… pleasant.

Certainly a better way to spend the holiday that sitting around alone at home… even if he would besuffering for it come the morning.

A figure appeared at the top of the stairs, and he paused as they descended towards him. It took him several seconds to recognize Petra in the darkened space.

“Goodnight, sir,” she said.

He nodded cordially, and she continued past him, heading for the living room.

“… Petra,” he called after her. The Turk turned back, head cocked slightly to one side in curiosity.

“Yes, sir?”

“I… don’t believe I ever thanked you,” he said, the words somewhat foreign to him. ‘Thank you’ wasn’t a phrase he was often inclined to use. “For coming to my rescue today, that is.”

Petra smiled.

“That’s my job, sir,” she said, with a quiet giggle.

“Perhaps… but your job had a rather profound impact upon me today. I’m still alive.” he replied, taking a step closer.

She was, he suddenly realized, quite pretty. Not that she looked any different than she normally did, he supposed… but relaxed and happy and off the clock, she took on a new appeal, somehow.

Physical attributes aside, however, Petra was intelligent… witty… easy to talk to. She spoke her mind, and didn’t seem to care how other judged her for it. He’d seen that much as far back as the Wutai trip last summer. All qualities the women his father kept pushing on him utterly lacked. It was something of a pity that she was a Turk. Were she of a standing closer to his own…

A curious shadow hanging in the doorway above her caught his attention, and he squinted in the darkness trying to make it out… and very nearly laughed when he recognized it as mistletoe. What an interesting coincidence…

“Sir?” Petra queried, a somewhat confused look on her face, and he merely pointed upwards, above her head, smirking slightly. Her gaze drifted up, and she, too, spotted the bundle of greenery. She giggled softly.

“You realize, of course, that it’s tradition…” he ventured, not certain if such an advance would even be welcome.

“I… suppose it is, isn’t it?” she replied, smiling widely. Rufus closed the remaining distance between them.

“Thank you for saving me, Petra,” he whispered, before leaning in close, and kissing her.

~end chapter 92~