Glass Cages
By Acid Fantasia
Summary -- After stabbing his father rather messily to death, Faegyn Ross is in danger of being shuffled off the mortal coil himself by one of his father's creepy "business associates", corrupt men running a black market traffic in slaves… among other things. Fae is placed under the protection of Reno of the Turks, who is the first to discover him with his father's body. Friendship blossoms and soon threatens to turn into something more, but with Fae trapped in a glass cage of guilt and Reno absolutely emphatic that He. Is. Not. Gay. it looks like their relationship isn't even going to get off the ground. Add near constant attempts on Fae's life, Elena trying to play the matchmaker, a part time job at Seventh Heaven and lots of dot-dot-dotting from Rude and it'll be a wonder if anybody escapes with their sanity.
Disclaimer Part One -- I begged and begged and offered them pocky and Pop-Tarts but Squaresoft were evil and only allowed me to borrow a few of their totally awesome characters for a bitty bit. Isn't that sad? AND they said I had to return them more or less unscratched or be forced to watch the Powerpuff Girls at EMR-point for the remainder of eternity. Bastards.
Disclaimer Part Two -- I don't own the lyrics of "The Man Who Sold the World" either. That right is solely David Bowie's. Or whoever wrote the song for David Bowie… Did he write it? Did he? Ah well, I prefer the Nirvana version anyways.
Warnings -- Violence, insanity on the part of the authoress, run-on sentences, seriously long-ass sentences with more commas embedded in them than should be legal, guy on guy action and possible sex scenes depending on whether I chicken out or not. Oh, and a fairly substantial smattering of cuss-words. Reno is in this fic after all. And… overdramatic summaries?
Notes -- With luck this will be one long-ass story. I'm thinking ten to fifteen chapters, maybe a bit more depending on inspiration. Updating will be erratic at best. And yes, this is a Reno/OC story. In Fae's defence it must be stated that he's a good OC. Don't knock 'im til you've tried 'im. …goddess, that sounds terrible.
This story is set like a year after Dirge of Cerberus. That means it's four years after the original game and two after the movie. ShinRa Corporations has merged with the WRO and managed to build itself back up to being a fairly substantial world power once more. It is, however, much more environmentally friendly these day, and kind of less of a fascist dictatorship. Huzzah. Rufus ShinRa isn't afraid to send out the Turks to eradicate people getting in the way of rebuilding the planet though, so Reno and the others still have jobs.
What else? Oh, yeah: please report typos, REVIEW and feel free to flame if you wanna be mocked to within an inch of your life. Criticism is, however, very welcome. Actually, I would love a decent bit of criticism.
That's about enough babbling from me now. Read on!
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Chapter One
Who knows?
Not me.
I never lost control.
You're face to face
With the man who sold the world.
--The Man Who Sold the World, David Bowie --
Friday evening found twenty one year old Faegyn Ross listening to incredibly loud rock music and scrubbing determinedly at a particularly stubborn bloodstain on his living room floor. The blond floorboards had soaked up the crimson fluid quite nicely and the two substances were simply refusing to part company. It was highly irritating.
It was perhaps a bit misleading to refer to the time as Friday evening, since it was well into the wee hours and, were it not for the fact that he lived in an enormous mansion with enough security guards roaming the grounds to amount to a small army, Fae probably would have already had a visit from the nice noise control people asking him to silence the din so his neighbours could get at least a few hours sleep before dawn. As it was, he was left to scrub away, his tuneless singing swallowed up by the unholy racket of squealing guitars and screeched lyrics. Surrounded by sound he was easily able to ignore the cooling body lying a few feet away.
His fingers were bleeding. He must have sliced them on the knife as he drove it into the man's throat. He did recall that he'd been holding it a bit awkwardly. How strange that it had taken him so long to notice the injury. And no wonder the blood hadn't come out when he'd been adding to it with his own all along. With a muttered curse, Faegyn brushed back his scruffy black hair and stood.
The world spun lazily for a few seconds. Fae waited until it stopped, swaying in place, dark blue eyes staring far into the distance. When the floor finally decided to be solid and unmoving once more, he wandered off to the kitchen in search of Band-Aids, flicking the stereo down to silent as he went past it.
He walked past pure white walls smeared with bloody handprints left from the last time he'd been through there. The blood on the walls, however, was not his. On the floor were a collection of scarlet footprints, all barefoot, and all his. He'd left quite a mess behind him, he reflected hazily. It'd take so, so long to clean up. He'd get started just as soon as he finished on that stain in the living room.
It took him a disgustingly long time to get the Band-Aids securely wrapped around his fingers and he realised, even through the filmy haze that had dropped down around his brain sometime in the middle of all the screaming and the blood, that he was shaking. Him. Faegyn Ross, the perfect son, the perfect little businessman-in-the-making, Faegyn Ross with the icy smile and the nerves of steel, was shaking. How pathetic. His father would be angry to see him like this. No, wait a minute. That hardly mattered anymore did it? What his father felt/thought/did? Sudden rising from the grave aside, there was no way the bastard was ever going to be able to voice his displeasure ever again. Unless Fae ever succumbed to an irrational urge to visit a medium or something.
He drifted back to the living room, not looking at his traitorous hands or at the blood staining the world and the walls and the floorboards crimson, ignoring everything that defined that hellish moment as his mind crept back from the implications of what he'd done. He felt… strange. Like he was looking out at the world from behind a glass wall, able to see and hear and understand but unable to feel, to truly comprehend. He'd lost something and its loss was tearing him apart.
Fae shook his head sharply, trying to clear it of both the fog and of the unpleasant thoughts that insisted upon congregating in the dark corners of his mind, whispering snide things and tempting him with the comforting blank oblivion of madness. It would be so easy to fall…
No.
Fae dropped to his knees next to the irritating stain. Clean now, moron. Have a breakdown later.
He'd barely begun scrubbing again before a low whistle rang out, making him jump. His head slammed up and he stared numbly at the man bent over his father's corpse.
"Well, shit."
Hair only a few shades lighter than the blood staining Faegyn's world fell in a scruffy ponytail down the man's suit clad back. Both suit and the white dress shirt open at the throat beneath it were rumpled and creased, as though they'd never had anything more than a passing acquaintance with an iron in their entire existence. He was tall, a handful of inches taller than Fae and built somewhere between skinny and slender. The face that turned towards Fae as he staggered to his feet was pale and comprised entirely of sharp edges, set with angular bluey-green eyes that seemed to glow even in the brightly lit room, and decorated with identical scarlet tattoos bracketing eye and cheekbone.
For a long moment both men held perfectly still, Fae swaying on his feet next to the Bloodstain from Hell and the stranger half-crouched beside the body. Blue green eyes locked with darker blue ones and for a split second Fae could feel the wall of glass inside his head creaking a little, as reality tried to reassert itself and the weight of everything he'd done surged around him. He crawled further behind his defences, midnight eyes sliding closed as he fought with his guilt and won.
When he opened his eyes the strange red head was smiling, a wicked grin that Fae found a thousand times more worrying than anything he'd ever experienced before, including his father's rages. "You sure did a number on the bastard, kid," he said brightly, straightening up and nudging the dead man with his boot. "A bit messy, but I'm guessing this is your first time doing this kind of shit? The first time's always the worst, yo."
All Fae could find to say in response was, "The blood won't come out of the floor."
The red head reached out and pulled the serrated bread knife from Fae's father's throat with a sickening slurping noise. He made it look easy but Fae himself had tried half a dozen times to remove the knife without result. "That's cos the wood's so pale, yo," he said, totally at ease, as though he had conversations with brand new murderers in blood-spattered living rooms every day of the week. "You gotta get it out real quick or else it sets. Elena says you can move it with vinegar or some shit, but I dunno. I just leave it, usually. If it's real bad, the boss sends round cleaners, yo, and it's gone by the time I get back from work."
Fae nodded seriously and watched the man inspect the bread knife then crouch again to poke at the ragged mess that used to be his father's neck. "Not bad," he concluded in an almost admiring tone.
"I'm going to the kitchen to get a bottle of vinegar," Fae announced randomly and wandered off again. The red haired man didn't even spare him a glance as he left the room, being rather more occupied with sticking his fingers up to the second knuckle in the hole(s) in Mr Ross' throat.
(Oh, look it's a fucking page break!)
Fae was profoundly disturbed at how many different kinds of vinegar were housed in the enormous pantry in the kitchen. Was vinegar considered a status symbol these days? If so, then he decided that his larder was profoundly fashionable. White vinegar, wine vinegar, cider vinegar… Why? He grabbed one of the bottles at random and returned to the living room.
The red head had abandoned the body and was examining the splatter patterns on the wall now. "Where were you when you stabbed him, yo?" he asked without turning.
"Near the middle of the room," Fae replied distantly, struggling with the lid on the vinegar bottle. It hadn't been opened before and his Band-Aid smothered fingers weren't really up to the task. "Could you?" he asked his odd visitor finally, proffering the glass bottle.
"What? Oh, yeah, sure." He popped the cap easily and returned the vinegar before going back to inspecting the walls.
"Thank you." Pouring the yellowy liquid over the stain, Fae found himself smiling slightly as he realised that even in times of madness his manners remained intact. Mother would have been proud.
The vinegar wormed its way through the Band-Aids as he resumed scrubbing and stung in the cuts. The pain somehow seemed far off, though, easy to ignore. "Can you turn the stereo back on?" he called and a moment later Three Days Grace was pounding through his head loud enough to drown out everything.
After some minutes of scrubbing, Fae sat back, vaguely irritated. "It's not working," he yelled over the music. Next minute the stereo cut off again and Fae found himself face to face with the red head. "Guess I was wrong about the vinegar, yo. We gotta talk, anyways. See, I've got this problem."
Fae shoved his hair out of his eyes again, smearing his forehead with an unpleasant mixture of blood and vinegar. "What kind of problem?" he asked, tilting his head to one side.
"I was kinda on my way here to knock off the old man myself," the red head explained. "But it looks like you got in first… It was you, right? Not some other guy who burst in an' hacked him to bits and left you to scrub at floors in a traumatised daze, yo?"
"Nope, I did it," Fae replied with a profoundly eerie smile. He rubbed vaguely at his bruised left cheek. The skin had split a little bit along the upper edge of his cheekbone and thin rivulets of blood had dried on his pale skin and in his inky hair. The placement of the bruise was unusual -- Mr Ross was normally quite careful to avoid areas that would show. "I got a bit sick of him smacking me around," he elaborated.
"Right." The man smiled again. "Now the snag is, I now have ta explain to the higher ups exactly why I ain't coming back with some great story about how I fried Mr Ross to a smoking' black crisp. I'm taking you're his kid?"
"Uh, yeah," Fae said, managing a slightly more normal smile. "Faegyn Ross, nice to meet you." He offered a blood-smeared, Band-Aid covered hand a bit self consciously. "You don't have to," he added, taking in the actual state of his hand. It was beyond icky.
"Nah, s'right," the red head smiled, gripping it firmly. "Reno of the Turks, at yer service. Now what the hell are we gonna do about all this?"
Fae turned and looked at his father's corpse properly for the first time since he'd put him in that state. The wounds around his neck were a solid three inches of red, and his once pale gray suit had been turned a much darker shade with gore. His cadaverous face still held traces of the anger that had marked it in his final few moments, while his eyes popped with the shock he'd no doubt felt at having his withdrawn, introverted son finally standing up to him. The sight of his very first murder victim probably should have reduced Fae to a gibbering wreck, but behind his glass walls all he could feel was faint disgust at exactly how much mess the old man had made in his death throes. The blood was absolutely everywhere. If he ever did this again, Fae was so going to at least put a sheet or something down first.
"You can say you killed him, if you like," he offered. "Since I kind of stole the kill from you and all."
Reno shook his head immediately. "Hate to have to say it, kid, but you didn't really do much of a job here. Lack of practise I guess, but I got a reputation to protect, yo. 'Sides, this all really ain't my style. I'd either fry 'im or blow 'is brains out. I don't use knives."
There was silence for a few beats after that.
"I don't normally act like this," Fae heard himself say suddenly. "I don't kill people, and I don't scrub floors, and I sure as hell don't fucking shake." He glared at his trembling fingertips. "Or swear."
"You don't swear?" Reno sounded a bit surprised.
"Not normally."
"Fuck. That's just… weird, yo. Look, you're gonna have to come explain things to the Boss-Man. Only thing for it. So go take a shower and get changed. And grab anything you wanna keep. I'll just… finish tidying up in here…"
As Fae left the room he could hear Reno muttering to himself. "Doesn't fucking swear… gah… now… Rude said the… blue wire and the… um… shit. Which one was that again…?"
(Oh, look it's a fucking page break!)
Fae washed and changed into jeans, turtleneck and jacket without feeling the slide of the water or the rasp of clothes over damp skin. He draped the heavy silver pendant he'd bought himself for his eighteenth birthday around his neck and stared around his surprisingly bare room, wondering if he should bother to take anything else. Eventually he just walked out.
Nothing his father had provided for him was really worth keeping, after all.
Reno had set up some kind of weird briefcase/laptop on the coffee table next to the body. He was fiddling with it when Fae wandered back down the stairs and didn't look up for a bit. When he did he smiled again like lightning. "Ready, yo? Then let's get the hell out of here."
He led Fae out of the house and through the grounds, long legs eating up the distance. He stepped over several collapsed security guards whose overwhelmingly silent presence attested to exactly how it was the Turk had managed to gain access to the Ross Family Mansion. Fae was vaguely surprised at how easy Reno seemed to find killing people to be. He didn't show the slightest sign of remorse at the crumpled bodies he led Fae past and, in a few cases, over.
They finally reached the high stone wall that surrounded the grounds. Constructed initially of granite, the wall had been sheathed seamlessly with black marble. There was not a single handhold and the top was decorated liberally with razor wire. Fae had tried to climb it once when he was about eight. He still had scars on his palms and forearms to attest to just had stupid that idea had been.
Reno didn't seem bothered, though, and Fae was sunk too deeply in his own mind to ask just how they were going to escape the complex. "I'll just boost you up, yo," the Turk said cheerfully. "C'mere."
Fae stared at him blankly. "Did you miss the wire at the top?" he asked in a dead voice. Reno just grinned and gestured to the wall. Faegyn looked up… and saw that a neat section of wire had been cut away. "Oh," he murmured and stepped forward.
Reno wrapped a warm hand around his wrist, turning him to face the wall. The glass wall hummed faintly as though something had smacked lightly against it and then settled again.
Disconcerted, Fae almost missed Reno cupping his hands into a stirrup and telling him to hop up. With much scrambling on his part and swearing on Reno's, Fae reached the top of the wall and sat there straddling the marble. He closed his eyes for a moment and totally missed seeing how Reno got up -- when he opened his eyes, Reno was sitting across from him, grinning.
"How did you… oh, who cares?" Fae mumbled, slipping over the side of the wall and slowly, carefully lowering himself to the ground. The fall was only a couple of feet at the end, but it still jarred. Reno landed like a cat, and led him off through the darkened streets. They were about five streets away when an enormous explosion lit up the sky like noon. Technicoloured noon. Along with the characteristic orange-red fire, there were also blossomings of violet and dark blue and green. A wave of heat rushed over the two men, so intense Fae could feel it even with his dulled perceptions.
Reno turned around and started walking backwards, a nasty little laugh rising to his lips. "Now, ain't that pretty?"
The old, pre-glass wall Fae would have had to have agreed. As it was all he could think of was the bloodstain on the floor being eaten by orange fire and the mangled corpse -- the personification of Fae's guilt -- crumbling to dust. But it wasn't gone. He'd carry his father's face and the blood with him forever.
(Oh, look, it's a fucking page break!)
The ShinRa building was huge and sleek and white and imposing. Just as it should be. Reno pulled his nondescript black car into a reserved parking place at the back of the building. A flashy red and black motorcycle sat in a park beside them. "Arright," Reno murmured, pulling the keys from the ignition. "Let's go, yo."
The receptionist looked up from filing her nails and gave the two a strange look as they got closer to her desk. "Hi, Reno," she said in a flirty tone, her eyes questioning as she looked at Fae. "What can I do for you?"
Reno favoured her with a predatory grin. "Lots of things, yo. You could do lots of things. Right now, though, could ya ring Tseng and tell him I'm back an' I brought a friend to meet 'im?"
She managed to drag her eyes away from Fae's utterly blank face and smiled up at the red haired Turk. "Sure thing, sweetie," she purred, picking up the phone and dialling in an extension. When the other end picked up she immediately became professional.
"Hello sir, this is Sally Gordon at reception. Reno's just come back from his assignment and he's brought a person with him whom he says needs to speak with you. Do I have permission to send them up?" After that there was much uh-huh-ing, concluding with a terrifyingly brilliant smile and a "Thank you, sir," followed by a brisk hang-up.
The professional demeanour went out the window the minute Reno smiled at her. Sally leaned forward on her desk, elbows together to deepen her cleavage and a come-hither smile -- or what she thought was a come-hither smile -- on her lips. "He says it's cool," she murmured, looking up at Reno through her lashes.
"Thanks, sweetheart," Reno said chirpily. "C'mon, man, let's go." He wrapped a hand around Fae's arm just above the elbow and pulled him towards the elevator. "Later, Sally!"
The second the doors closed, Reno slumped against the elevator wall, staring at Fae with a strangely wary expression on his face. "Don't do anything stupid in here, yo," he warned. "No random attacks, or weird speeches, and for Shiva's sake, no goddamn streaking."
Fae raised an eyebrow. "You take people to see your boss often?" he murmured watching the number above the door tick themselves off as the lift climbed higher.
"Don't fucking laugh, kid," Reno shot back, glaring. "You wouldn't believe how crazy people go, dammit. So just behave yourself."
"I'll be good," Fae promised meekly. Reno gave him a highly suspicious look but the doors opened before he could say anything further, so he just dragged Fae out of the elevator and down seemingly endless, utterly deserted hallways.
They finally reached the door Reno wanted and ground to a halt. Reno turned around abruptly and flicked his eyes up and down Fae's thin frame. To his surprise, he found himself fighting the urge to fidget under the Turk's stare. He hadn't fidgeted when people stared at him since he was ten years old. What was it about this man that made Fae revert to infancy?
Reno reached out abruptly and straightened Fae's collar before roughly finger combing his hair into some semblance of order. He glanced down at Fae's Band-Aid covered hands and snapped, "Keep your hands out of sight, yo." He tugged sharply at Fae's jacket so it hung straight and then nodded. "Alright."
"Should I be returning the favour?" Fae asked, mystified and faintly amused. Reno gave him a Look. "No. He's used to me lookin' like this, yo. And you are a smart-ass," he muttered, reaching for the door handle.
"Pot. Kettle. Black. Calling," Fae returned under his breath. He was disgusted by how easy it was to act normal. He'd killed somebody, stabbed them repeatedly with a knife until they stopped breathing and he was still able to crack jokes. It was sick, sick in the extreme. But for some reason it made him feel a little better about the whole situation.
He followed Reno into the spacious office, eyes downcast and hands held lightly behind his back. The office was quite large, and was lined with filing cabinets and bookshelfs all crammed with file upon file upon file. A heavy steel desk sat at the far side of the room, just in front of a large window. The view outside was hidden by Venetian blinds in a muted taupe shade.
Behind the desk sat a tall man with long dark hair brushed back from his forehead. His skin was the fair shade of one who didn't get as much time outside as he should, but there were still lingering traces of a tan hanging about. His eyes were so dark a green as to seem almost black and just above them, set between the straight black brows was a dark red dot drawn on the skin. Wutain, then. His build had a little more extra padding than the man seemed used to, and there was a plain gold wedding band on his ring finger. He dressed in a suit similar to Reno's, but in his case he actually bother to tuck the shirt in and do up all the necessary buttons, as well as wear the plain black tie that went with it.
"I'm back, sir," Reno said chirpily, making a sloppy salute in front of the desk.
"I noticed," "Sir" said dryly. "Why have you brought this person with you?" His deep, dark green eyes drifted over to Fae, who went still, barely even breathing until he looked away again. Oh, he hated that sort of person. He really did. "Sir" was the kind of man who missed nothing. Fae wouldn't be overly amazed to discover that the man had seen in that brief moment every single crime he had committed in his entire life, from the times he'd hidden from his nannies to the violent murder of his father.
For the first time since meeting Reno, Fae felt the faint prickling of trepidation. By rights he should be arrested for killing his father. Fae didn't know much about the Turks beyond that they did ShinRa's dirty work, but he figured that they were some branch of the armed forces and, therefore, were policemen. Of a sort. And policemen could arrest him and throw him in jail forever. Which would suck.
You deserve it, whispered one of the rather more unpleasant facets of his personality.
Shut up, Fae whispered back.
"There was a complication with the assignment, Tseng," Reno said flatly. Tseng looked up sharply at the use of his name. "Continue," he said after a moment.
"I got in okay, yo, but the target was already dead. He'd been murdered by his son." Reno tilted his head towards Fae. "Him. He's Faegyn Ross."
Fae found himself pinned by those eyes again. His breathing really did stop this time. "Is he indeed," Tseng murmured, his damn scary eyes suddenly thoughtful. "Tell me, Mr Ross, did you have any idea of just what your father's 'business ventures' were?"
Fae drew in a slow breath, organising his thoughts. He did not want to start babbling (never mind that he'd never babbled before in his life -- tonight seemed to be the night for unhappy firsts).
"I know that for the legal side of his dealings he bought and sold shares and shipped goods, mainly textiles and spices, from Wutai," Fae said slowly. "He also dabbled in property development. But I doubt you'd be interested in any of that."
Tseng nodded, about half a smile on his face now. "Correct. What else do you know?"
"You mean the illegal bit? Seems stupid to call it a bit," he mocked, dark blue eyes distant now as he went over every single shady deal his father had ever brokered. Anything to keep himself out of the hell that was jail. "The illegal proceeds made up the majority of my father's fortune. He wove them in and out of his legal dealings almost seamlessly. When he brought back a shipment of spices from South-East Wutai he'd have stolen antiques or jewels or slaves," and all the hatred bubbled up in that single word, "hidden in smuggler's hidey-holes all over the ship. Sell the jewels in Edge, the antiques on the black market and the slaves in the illegal auctions in Costa Del Sol and there's an easy twenty mil'. He has ties with the Triad and the Mafiya and Ifrit knows who else. Hell, he sold the Don's wife her fucking second home in Costa del Sol and I'll bet that some of the rooms in that hellhole aren't on the plans he submitted to the council -- who are all corrupt anyway. He built a block of flats here in Edge and he cut so many goddamn corners it was no wonder they collapsed six months back. Sixteen people killed in that, three of them kids and he wouldn't pay out a single gil to the poor bastards who survived with broken backs and spines and had no way to work for months so they all starved to death anyway. And --"
Tseng lifted a hand and cut off the embarrassing tumble of words that had just spilled out of Fae's mouth with twenty one years of force behind them. "And you never did anything to try and stop him?" he asked in a stern voice. "You knew all this and still did nothing. Explain yourself."
Fae just stared at him for a long moment, the words dead in his throat. "Are you fucking insane?" he gasped eventually. He felt more than a little hysterical and barely even noticed Reno wince and cover his eyes with one hand. "He would have killed me. Or, better yet, he would have had me beaten to within an inch of my life and then practically drowned me in Potion and packed me off to Costa Del Sol for a little 'holiday' while I recuperated. Wouldn't be the first time. I mentioned moving out once. I was in traction for three months."
"That certainly matches Mr Ross' reputation," said a cool, deep voice from the doorway. Fae turned around sharply and met the ice blue eyes of the strawberry-blond man standing there. He was dressed almost entirely in white, the pristine paleness of his suit set off by a darker waistcoat. His hair fell elegantly over fair-skinned cheekbones and his beautifully curved mouth was quirked in a slight smile. "He was cutthroat in his dealings," he continued, stepping further into the room. "I can believe he would behave in much the same way at home. I understand he was mostly responsible for the death of your mother?"
Fae didn't need to fight back tears -- he'd buried the pain of that wound so deep he couldn't feel the hurt years ago. "Yes, sir," he said simply. "She was pregnant with my baby sister and my father grew angry with her for… something and knocked her down the stairs. She died."
"Along with your sister…" the man murmured, icy eyes still locked on Fae's face. Fae heard a chair scrape back behind him and knew that Tseng now stood. "Sir," he said in an expressionless voice. "I had no idea you were still in the building. I would have thought you'd gone home hours ago." Fae thought he could hear a faint tenor of reproach in the words.
"But if I had of, I would have missed meeting Mr Ross here," the newest "Sir" said with a lightning smile. "And that would have been unfortunate." The pale eyes finally flicked away from Fae's face and locked with Tseng's behind him. "The only question now is what to do with him. His father had many… friends and regardless of how careful Reno was to cover the evidence, whispers will leak out. He will be in serious danger very soon."
Fae curled his hands into fists, nails digging into his palms. He hadn't thought of that. Just another problem to add to the growing pile.
"He can crash at my place tonight, yo," Reno offered. "My couch is unoccupied and I can deal with anyone who turns up to kill 'im."
For some reason, the thought that Reno would be about to protect him made Fae feel a lot better about things. The man acted like he killed as easily as he breathed and disturbing as that was, a bodyguard of sorts with that kind of ability was definitely something to think about.
"That will do for tonight," the blond man decided. "I will be away for the next few days, but if you could bring Mr Ross back on Tuesday morning I'd like to speak with him about a few things."
"Yes, President ShinRa," Reno said with a truly remarkable amount of respect in his voice considering his general attitude. Fae winced at the name and tried to straighten up from his tired slouch -- exhaustion had swept over him in wave just after his little babble-speech had been so courteously cut off by Tseng. This was Rufus ShinRa, the head of ShinRa Corporations. He'd survived an exploding building, attacks by strange monsters and a silver haired remnant-thing. And his father was supposed to have been just as bad a bastard as Fae's, if not worse.
Rufus glanced at him swaying there with a mixture of faint amusement and even fainter concern on his face. "Take him home and let him sleep, Reno," he ordered. "You can fill out your report tomorrow."
"Yes, sir!" Reno said happily, saluted ShinRa and Tseng and pulled Fae out of the room.
(Oh, look, it's a fucking page break!)
It turned out that the black and red motorcycle was -- surprise, surprise -- Reno's and that the nondescript black car was merely one of the company ones used for sneaking around in. The numberplates would be changed again now that Reno had used it.
Fae clung sleepily to Reno's hips as the two roared through the streets to Reno's apartment. When they got there they had to stagger up six flights of stairs because the lift was out for "the hundredth fucking time!"
Once they got to the apartment, Fae barely waited for Reno to drag a spare pillow and a blanket out of a cupboard and toss them to him before he mumbled a sleepy goodnight and fell onto the couch and into sweet, sweet, pitch black nothingness.
A/N: So there's Chapter One (and yes, I do capitalize them). Loved it? Hated it? There a little green button jeeeeeesst underneath this huge block of type that says "Review Story" or some shit. C'mon. Press it. Tell me what you thought. Ya know ya want to. An' nowwww…. Bring on the long-ass author's notes.
1) I get any reviews saying "Oh Fae is such a freakin' Mary Sue/Gary Stu/whatthefuckEVAH, he is useless, he should die, he has too many random mood swings, blah bitty blah" I will explode and shout a lot and mock you and so on. Be warned. You try stabbing your evil bastard of a father to death with a bread knife and you see how your mood swings are doing. Also, ditto reviews that say homosexuality is evil/bad/sick etc. I won't even to bother to mock you then. I'll just attempt to rip you a new one through cyberspace. Piss off and read something else, all yo' sad homophobes. We don't need you presence.
2) Does the vinegar thing work? I'm like Reno and I really like the colour of blood in the carpet/floorboards so on the not-as-rare-as-they-should-be occasions when I manage to slice myself open by accident and bleed everywhere I tend to leave it. Does vinegar remove blood stains? I didn't think it did, but I wasn't sure.
3) Reno also has random mood swings. Cos he's cool like that. And also cos I don't really have his character nailed down too well yet. I kinda like how he's coming out (haha) though so he'll probably end up staying like this OOC or not.
4) Yeah, I made Tseng gain about ten pounds and get married. Cyber cookies and muffins to anyone who can guess who to. (Lucky I have lots of them since it's pretty easy to guess. Hint: she's ditzy and blond.) His wife's about to have a kid too, in case you're interested… Cos I laaaaiiiike kids.
5) Please don't be put off by my foul mouth. I can't really help myself. I have several brothers and a father that's even worse than I am. And do you think I should put Cid in here somewhere, somehow? I LOVE Cid.
NEXT CHAPTER: Nightmares, the horror which is Reno's apartment (much worse than any nightmare), cleaning, swearing and Elena. In that order.