A/N -- Ah, ye gods. It has been too long since I have written fanfiction, months in fact. I've become lazy and have stuck to roleplaying. I'm afraid my writing isn't what it used to be. Just a simple oneshot, fueled by some holiday influences and thoughts. I'm not too happy with how it ended, but I can't seem to twist it how I want to. Critique and Comments are welcomed.

--

Rufus had never bought a gift for someone before.

Well, not in this sense. He had 'bought' gifts, paid off secretaries to purchase whatever seemed appropriate for some business partner or something.

But a true gift? The blond moves down the street, trying to disregard the nipping cold that swept along the upper plate of Midgar. Eyes glance to the right, searching behind the panes of glass that front the store.

Tseng... what would he want?

If this were almost any other person, it wouldn't be so hard. Reno would just want credits at a slum bar, Elena something for her hair, Rude a pair of slick shades, but Tseng?

The President slows his steps, hands hidden away in the pockets of his jacket to avoid the less then forgiving weather that was already beginning to chap his delicate lips. And to think. The person closest to you... it shouldn't have been this hard to find something. But Rufus had been out 'shopping' for the last two hours and still nothing. Elena trailed behind him, taking care of Rufus for the moment just in case a citizen decided to make some rebellious case against the President, but he had ordered her to stay far behind so he could be alone in this choice.

Finally he wills himself to enter this store, regardless of the displays, opening the door as an electronic chiming sound makes his entrance known. The shopkeeper doesn't appear to be behind the register, so Rufus takes the liberty of browsing the shelves himself.

Brooches. No.

Handbags. No.

A fancy pen? No.

It wasn't difficult to frustrate Rufus. And it was already evident in the manner his eye ticked just a hair at every ''imperfect' object that was presented to his gaze. Then a pause, catching sight of a cream coloured piece of fabric half tucked under a display for Jazz CDs. He reaches to scoot the little display over, picking up the piece of interest only to discover it was a scarf. Digit tips brush over the soft fabric a few times before the corners of the blond's lips twitch into a distant sort of smile.

--

The paperwork had seemed to drag on forever. Elena had just taken the week off for the holidays, and it hadn't taken long for Tseng to feel to effects of one less TURK in office, even if it was the rookie. The fine ink instrument left it's elegant marks against the paper, his signature made clear before the packet is set in the outgoing box.

Tseng had just reached to pick up another folder packet, before there was a knock on the door. Before lips could even part to greet the visitor, the door is already open, Rufus entering with a package tucked under his arm, wrapped in silvery blue paper.

"Good evening, President."

A nod is the only greeting Tseng receives in reply, as Rufus approaches the desk, setting the package down without a word. Dark brows rise just barely in quiet surprise. A gift? Soft brown iris' glance upwards to meet Rufus', as though assuring himself it was quite alright to accept.

"... are you not capable of opening a gift, Tseng?"

That cold snap of a tone sent the Wutain's hands to snag the package, mummering a soft reply.

"My apologies, sir."

The President remains to appear vaguely impatient, a mask for the slightly nervous feeling in his stomach. It was as though he were young all over again, trying to impress Tseng. Wasn't he the CEO of Shin-Ra? Shouldn't he already have all of Tseng's respect?

But it wasn't exactly respect that Rufus desired so greatly.

There is silence for a few moments, besides the sounds of paper rustling. The TURK's hands move to open the box carefully, curious as to what is inside. Then a vocal noise is made on the TURK's part, reaching to pick up that scarf in his hands, feeling confused but pleased that Rufus would think of him in such a manner to purchase a gift for him.

The President begins to turn away to exit once more, but at the same time Tseng rises from his place behind the desk, reaching out to grasp Rufus' bicep, tugging the blond back towards himself, making sure to maintain eye contact.

"... thank you, Rufus."

A first name basis was a rare thing between them. Rufus watches Tseng carefully for a moment, before taking the scarf into his own hands in almost a demanding sort of manner, reaching up to wrap it about the elder male's neck properly. Tseng, although a bit surprised by the motions, stands still to allow them.

Pale fingers snag in the fabric, moving to tug the TURK down, Rufus closing his eyes as he rests his forehead against Tseng's, their lips meeting briefly.

"Merry Christmas, sir."

"... I thought I was Rufus?"

There was a considerable silence, before Rufus' lips shift into a sly little sort of smile. Tseng is then able to take into account that the younger had just been teasing, quietly chuckling before moving to lean the other against the desk, taking in the clean scent of Rufus' skin. The President in turn reaches up to thread his digits through Tseng's dark strands, sa the Wutain mummers against the aristocratic man's ear; words that had always brought irritation to Rufus. But now quite a different effect was brought about by the phrase.

"Merry Christmas, Rufus."