And so, the Reefie drug hits home. I looked at the other entries for the VIVA LA REEFIE CHRISTMAS CONTEST and thought, angst, good angst, but nevertheless, angst. And then I said, write something humorous, silly and friendship.
So, why not?
Presenting...
Title: Messy Tables and Jealousy
Summary: No one expects Reeve to be jealous of Yuffie. He was organized and efficient, she was messy and...well, free. (Reefie friendship)
Rating: K
Pairing: Reefie
By: Moiranne Rose
Reeve was exactly three minutes early for the annual after-holiday-welcome meeting at the heart of the WRO. With no rush or hurry, he sat himself down and greeted all his colleagues with a smile. They responded with a multitude of 'Hmm"s, "Hey look boss is here"s and "Hey"s and "Good Morning Reeve." (with exact enunciation)contributed by the cloaked gunman opposite him.
Everyone was to attend. Standing at the head of the long table seatingvarious disgruntled employees, he surveyed the crowd with the enthusiasm only expected of the superior he was . All down the table, there were mechanics examining oily fingers from their early start on work, there were spies scratching at their pressed suits they only wore once a year, countless others drumming their fingers in a mismatched rhythm, slouching, and of course, Vincent Valentine staring straight at him, back straight and red eyes piercingly alert.
Now all he needed to complete this was...
An empty chair. Perfect. So it was just like another year. New year, new surprises, same Yuffie. How heartening.
He was about 5 minutes into his opening address, when he realised that everyone had slouched into the hard meeting chairs (except Vincent, of course). Even when roused with a particularly thunderous sentence, they would only fall back to bored half attentiveness. It was only what he expected. He did like to think he speeches were attention worthy, though. Adjusting his eyeglasses (recently prescribed, the irritating things), he continued on about the Economic Status of the WRO.
"Reeve."
He immediately stopped, slightly irritated. Always open to suggestions, he reminded himself.
"Yes?"
"Where is Yuffie?"
"Ahh..." That didn't suffice as an answer, but there was no answer he could give. Yuffie could be anywhere from her table, to the Church, to the Wutai. She wasn't Head of Espionage for nothing.
"Does she really add anything to the meeting?" The remark was simply a statement of the views shared by the members of WRO at the table, and he did not need to look for who uttered this. A few sounds of agreement followed.
"Apart from the high screechy voice and strange humor?" A somewhat unkind chuckle passed through the group.
"What about the fashion advice?"
"Quiet!" Reeve yelled over the din.
Everyone looked at him. Even he was a bit surprised at his own exclamation. What was he going to do about the truth? Yuffie was, in her best state, mildly irritating. Reeve sighed, resigned.
"I'll go find Miss Kisaragi." While it was not his place, as Head of the WRO, to go scout for the rebellious Yuffie, he knew no one else would.
He left, just before they started their discussion again.
The walk to Yuffie's desk was less than eventful, given that all the WRO members were in the Conference Room. He didn't know why he chose to check her table first , (as he knew, she could be anywhere) but it just came to him, so he went. The cubicles each had their own decorations, the ordinary picture here and there, maybe a snapshot of a family if any, a figurine, but nothing fancy or frilly.
Yuffie's, on the other hand, was as unique as she was. Taped on every side of her cubicle, it was proclaimed, "Men are like parking lots. The good ones are all taken, and the ones that are left are handicapped." and "Don't give me attitude. I'm the one giving it to YOU.". She had all her materia, besides those she kept on her person, in a safe under her table. And her table, he hadn't even begun to speak of her table. What stopped him from catalogingthe grandeur of the mess was her head as a crowning glory above it.
Her head, on her shoulders, thank Gaia. Yuffie was so prone to disaster, he wasn't sure when he'd find her obituary in the papers. People like her tended to go out with a bang.
Now he had quite a few things to say about the state of her working conditions. He shook her up unceremoniously.
"Wha...Wha...Hoozare?" She sprang up, her hair a mess of tangles and immediately went into a defensive demeanor.
"I'd appreciate more intelligible sentences."
Yuffie grinned and let down her guard somewhat. "Oh, it's just you Reeve. What can this super-duper ninja do for ya today?"
A smile appeared just above his prized goatee. "Hmm...let's see. Reeve's wishlist, 1) Get Yuffie to do her reports on time, 2) Get Yuffie to pack her desk-"
"Hey hey mister! I'm not gonna pack no table for you. It's really neat! Look at it!"
He followed her hand gestures and took in the clutter that threatened to take over her workspace. If there was anyone who could skip as many deadlines as her, their tables would be stacked high too. She had unfinished reports and countless bits of unfiled paperwork that lay haphazardly across her desk. Not to mention all kinds of figurines and souvenirs she got from her travels back to Wutai. The more he looked, the more ridiculous her words became.
He eyed it meaningfully. She took the hint.
"Okay, so maybe it's not neat the way you want it, but it suits me just fine. Freedom of Expression, ever heard of it?"
He chuckled a bit, but not unkindly. Yuffie had an innate way to wheedle her way through his reasoning and leave loopholes everywhere. She continued.
"Just because you're old, and need glasses, and have a stick up your ass, it doesn't mean you get to laugh at me, Yuffie Kisaragi, next in line for the throne of Wutai!" Then she paused, and her eyes caught a scaled-down representation of an Wutaian beast. She began to detail its long journey from the depths of Wutai to her table in the WRO.
He stopped. The more she spoke, the more he felt uncomfortable with himself. He was always satisfied with himself, the way he handled things, his impeccable organization skills, everything was where it should be. Now he started thinking of himself as stuffy, close-minded: an insight, but not a particularly nice one.
But there was no stopping Yuffie. From the miniature, she'd gone on to the paper fan from Costa del Sol, to the chocobo feather bookmark from Junon. Reeve realized that, he was organized and efficient, but Yuffie was something else was messy, scatter-brained but free. He almost envied her.
It was around this time that he finally came to his senses and told her she needed to get to the meeting.
"What meeting? I haven't even told you about my glass paperweight from Fort Condor!"
And, for some reason, he found that he could let himself listen to another set of engaging, if a bit disturbing, narrative, and disregard the fact that he was, himself, half an hour late.
After all, he had to get "that stick" out of "his ass" sometime, right?
A.N: Gawds, that was hard to write. Maybe I should go creep back to Angst and write that now.
MR