Author's Note: This is a birthday present for my lovely wife, Hiita-hime, who loves crazy shenanigans like this. Happy Birthday!

Disclaimer: I don't own Final Fantasy VII, Shinra, Reeve, or the Turks.


Unofficial Rules of Being a Turk

Do not get Reeve involved with pranks.

It all started with a birthday cake.

It had been quite a nice cake; vanilla sponge, with cream and strawberries. It would have been better, Reeve reasoned, if the strawberries had spelt his name and not 'Rebecca', but the Head of Urban Development was fairly used to not getting a lot of respect, and ate it anyway. An hour later, the black haired man could be found throwing up due to the high concentration of Palmer's special high-grade lard that had been mixed into the cake. With every heave, one thought echoed across his mind: the Turks were going to pay.

--

Rude knew as soon as he walked into the building that today was going to be a very long day. One of the secretaries on the first floor had come down with the flu, and in her place was an elderly woman so cranky that Rude wondered if she was his long-dead grandmother. The janitorial staff had been drawing straws over who was going to be cleaning Reeve Tuesti's personal quarters and arguing, saying that Stephen hadn't made the straws short enough and therefore they had to draw again, only to proclaim that they were out of straws and would Jack please run and steal some from the kitchen staff, only without losing a finger this time? The kitchen staff, meanwhile, was up in arms over health codes, arguing that if they wanted to kill mice properly, they had to use poison, and if a few SOLDIERs had gotten sick than it just meant that Hojo wasn't doing his job properly. This, in turn, sent Hojo on a rampage. The scientist had been cornering everyone he could find, attempting to take a DNA sample and – in rare cases – drag them back to the lab with him. Rude had been forced, after calmly stating that Hojo already had his DNA on file, to 'escort' the man back to his lab and ignore the way clammy hands tried to break his grip. All of these were bad enough, but when Rude walked into his office to see Reno reclining back in a chair with a shit-eating grin, he knew that today was going to be a very, very long day.

"You'll never guess what I did."

Rude didn't say anything, choosing to simply stare at his partner from behind his sunglasses and wonder why he wasn't turning around and going home. Reno was unaffected; if anything, his grin grew wider.

"I pranked Reeve Tuesti with that lard we lifted off Palmer. He was puking for hours. You shoulda seen it, yo."

Rude swallowed. "You… pranked Reeve?"

Reno nodded and frowned. "Why?"

Just then, a loud 'thunk!' could be heard coming from the ventilation shaft above them. Both of them froze. As their hands started to inch towards their weapons, a loud, shrill song started.

"Happy happy birthday, from all of us to you! We wish it was our birthday, so we could party too! OH, I don't know but I've been told, someone here is getting old! Happy happy birthday…"

The two Turks looked at each other in horror.

"Reno, I thought someone would have told you. You never, ever prank Reeve. He has… talents."

"HAPPY HAPPY BIRTHDAY, FROM ALL OF US TO YOU! WE WISH IT WAS OUR BIRTHDAY, SO WE COULD PARTY TOO! OH, I DON'T KNOW BUT I'VE BEEN TOLD, SOMEONE HERE IS GETTING OLD! HAPPY HAPPY BIRTHDAY…"

Clamping his hand down on his ears, Reno's grin started to re-form. "This means war."

Rude smiled.

--

Reeve was in a considerably good mood. It was his birthday, he'd eaten cake (and not just the lard-spiked monstrosity that had plagued his intestines), and he'd gotten rid of that infernal music-playing card from Scarlet by re-pranking the Turks. At the moment, life was good.

Unfortunately, Reeve worked for Shinra, and was honest. Therefore, his life was never good for very long.

Humming slightly, Reeve started a pot of coffee and pulled out his favorite coffee cup (it was light blue, with cats on it). Inhaling the absolutely heavenly smell, he poured himself a cup – only to shriek in a very unmanly way as the handle fell off in his hands and hot coffee ended up on his hands and chest.

After cleaning himself up, Reeve went back to inspect the damage. The handle had been broken off and glued back on, apparently with glue that wasn't heat resistant. It had to have been Reno, and if Reno was involved that meant Rude probably was, too. The janitorial staff had probably let the two of them in after his excessive vomit session earlier in the day as payback.

Smiling to himself, Reeve wandered over to his phone. If it was war they wanted, it was war they would get.

"Hi, could you connect me with Dr. Hojo, please?"

--

"…and that makes one-hundred-fifty gil. There! We're sorry, we won't spike anyone's food so that they throw up all over and you have to clean it up again." Turning away from the cleaning staff, Reno eyed his partner. "Even if I'm 150 gil in the hole now, that was so worth it! Did you hear him scream, yo?"

Resisting the urge to remind Reno that Reeve's shriek was nothing compared to the redhead when he saw a spider, Rude nodded. "Entertaining as this has been, Reno, we have to write our cadet reviews."

"Aw, fuck." Running a hand through his hair, Reno stopped as he turned around a corner, watching Hojo race by rubbing his hands together. "What's he so excited about?"

Rude frowned. What, indeed. Shrugging, he continued down the hall towards their office, followed – after a pause – by Reno. Opening the door, he turned back towards his partner to make sure he was still there, and stepped into the room – only to stand there, staring in disbelief behind his sunglasses.

"Rude? Partner? What's wro- oh shit. So that's what he was so happy about."

Sprouting up from their desks was a jungle that made Gongaga look like a well-groomed front lawn. Razor-edged grass sprouted from between the keys on their keyboards, a tiny bit of blood – presumably from Hojo – already on them. Around the chairs grew vines with long, thick thorns that were just begging to be sat on. In the middle of their desks (which were pushed together to look more like a table) sat a mutated Venus Fly Trap, which was snapping its jaws in their direction.

"…I think we're going to be paying the janitorial staff again."

--

After an excited Hojo burst into his office, gibbering on about how he was a genius and how his plants had worked perfectly, Reeve was beginning to wonder if this prank war had been a bad idea. He was nursing a headache, the janitorial staff was threatening to go on strike, and above all, Hojo was still in his office.

"…I'll be heralded as a genius, a visionary! The world will bow before my feet! The President will appoint me as his right-hand man, and give me all the funding I could ever want! Scarlet will see that my experiments are the weapons of the future, better even than the materia she loathes!"

"Of course. Mmhmm." Reeve wasn't really listening; thankfully, a knock on the door cut Hojo's ramblings off. A blonde secretary stuck her head in the door.

"Mr. Tuesti, sir? You have a letter." Reeve smiled and thanked her, returning to his desk to open the envelope. Hojo started talking again, but Reeve was reading the letter.

"Mister Reeve Tuesti,

Well done. We're very impressed with your tactics during this little prank 'war'. Unfortunately, Tseng is up in arms over it, so we regret to inform you that it must end. Perhaps you'd like to go out for drinks?

Reno & Rude

P.S. This message will self-destruct in 30 seconds."

"Shit!" Tossing the envelope in the air, Reeve ducked down as it exploded, raining charred bits of paper onto his previously immaculate desk and the top of Hojo's head. Blinking, the scientist stared at him for a moment. "…I must return to the lab! I had forgotten all about explosives! Think of the possibilities – a rat or other organic creature, rigged to self-destruct!"

As Reeve watched Hojo dash out of his office, he felt the corner of his mouth twitch. Soon, he was laughing, his hands reaching for his phone as he dialed the Turk's number.

It was definitely a birthday to remember.