A/N: This is a re-write of a story I did several years ago, the files to which all got deleted both on here and my computer. So on the off chance that anyone reading this thinks it seems familiar, you may have read a more poorly written version a few years ago. Enjoy!
The air was never cool beneath the thick concrete plate that covered the slums of the city of Midgar. There was always a stifling heat, rising off from the decaying earth below with nowhere to flow save for the poorly constructed ventilation ducts in the walls enclosing the city.
The heat was made no better by the stench of garbage piles in dire need of collecting. On the plate, garbage was collected every day, brought down to a massive dump below to await a bi-monthly removal to another dump outside of town. The dump in question was all the way across the city in Sector 3, but the smell permeated through the entire city beneath the plate.
It was making Reno Sinclair gag.
He had just stepped out of a grimy bar in the Wall Market, too drunk to walk straight; he wobbled on his spindly legs and tripped forward, nearly falling to the ground before righting himself.
"Goddamn filthy slums," he slurred. The stench of the garbage was something he could never get used to, though some of the citizens of the lower city seemed to be immune to it. No matter how many times he came down below the plate for missions or a quick stop at the Honeybee Inn, he couldn't stand that stench.
He pulled a pack of cigarettes from the breast pocket of his navy blue, Shinra issue suit and lit it quickly, sucking in the smoke to force out the smell of garbage. He breathed a sigh of relief and with it came a cloud of smoke flowing from his mouth and nostrils. Standing as drunk as he was made him dizzy, so he found a small patch of dry earth and sat down to enjoy his cigarette.
President Shinra had recently enacted a zero-tolerance smoking ban within the Shinra building where Reno spent ninety percent of his time. The policy had been instated in an attempt to boost the health, and subsequently the morale, of employees, but all it had done was make Reno more irritable than usual. The small patio allotted for smoking breaks on each floor was always packed and he could hardly ever just enjoy a cigarette in peace anymore.
The cigarette smoke did a good job of removing the stench of garbage from his nostrils and relaxing him. He couldn't remember where the nearest train station was and he was too drunk to walk to it anyway. There should have been one in the Wall Market, if Reeve Tuesti had ever bothered to have it finished. Reeve rubbed Reno the wrong way, so it gave him a small sense of pleasure to blame the man whenever he had to go out of his way just to get to the Wall Market, but he knew the unfinished construction of Sector 6 was the President's fault. There were more pressing issues to dedicate funds to.
For a while, Reno sat on the ground smoking his cigarette and watching the people pass by. You could never tell the time in Midgar because it was always dark, surrounded by a haze of pollution, but his watch read three fifteen AM. The slums never seemed to sleep, especially the Wall Market. Sleazy, unkempt men walked past with scantily clad girls from the Honeybee Inn on their arms. The local gym buffs ran laps around the buildings. Some orphaned children chased each other into Sector 5.
None of them looked twice at Reno. They all knew who he was. Turks were easy to spot, there were so few of them and they were always down in the slums "doing business" anyway. Besides that, Reno frequented the Wall Market on his time off.
He lay back in the dirt and stared up at the edges of unfinished concrete plate extending out from Sector 5. He pulled on the pair of goggles he usually wore against his fiery mane of hair and stared through them drunkenly. They were in need of a cleaning and further distorted his drunken vision, making everything blend and blur. He giggled and shoved them back up before it made him sick.
If he thought hard enough, he could vaguely recall a train station near Sector 7, maybe twenty minutes walk from where he was, but that seemed much too far. Lying in the dirt made him realize how tired he was and the thought of getting up seemed impossible.
He dug into the pocket of his trousers and pulled a small cell phone from within. It took him several minutes of staring at the screen and messing with buttons before he managed to bring up the number he was looking for, then he pressed the phone to his ear only to realize he had it upside down. When he finally righted it, the other line picked up.
"Reno, do you know what ungodly hour it is?" a husky voice sounded on the other end.
"Rude, man. Man. Dude. My brother…hic…from another…mother. Rude. Hey listen. Hey. Rude. Listen, man. Rude. Are you there?"
"Reno," Rude sighed heavily, "how much have you had to drink."
Reno counted on his fingers and momentarily dropped the phone in the dirt. He scrambled to pick it back up and dust it off. "You there, man?"
"I'm here."
"Can you come get me, man? Rude. You're my pal. My amigo. You get me? Can you come pick me up? You can hop the train from Sector 2 right? Are you at work? Were you sleeping? Rude, can you…oh man! You gotta bring some nachos from that guy who sells them on the corner between Sector 1 and Sector 2. Dude, you gotta bring me them. Come and get me and bring me those nachos."
"Reno, it's almost four in the morning. The guy selling nachos is probably in bed, which is where I was until you called me and woke me up. You can't get the train? Where are you?"
"I'm down in the Wall Market, man."
"Ah, Christ, of course you are."
"Can you come and get me or what? I can't stand, dude. And I've only got one cigarette left in this pack. I might die if you don't get here soon. I feel my legs going numb. Is it possible to overheat so much you burst into flames? Didn't that happen to a guy in Sector 7? Or maybe it was one of Professor Hojo's experiments. I don't remember. You gonna bring me those nachos?" Reno belched loudly and his head spun.
There was a disgruntled sound on Rude's end. For a minute he didn't say anything. "All right. I'll come and pick you up. But only because we have to be at work by noon and Tseng will kill one or both of us if you're missing."
"Noon. Noon. Noon," Reno chuckled. "If you say it too many times it doesn't sound like a word."
"Just stay where you are. The trains run less frequently at this hour so I probably won't be there for another hour. So much for a good night's sleep. Bastard," Rude muttered the last bit under his breath before hanging up.
Reno held the phone open for a while longer before he realized Rude had disconnected. He pocketed it and lit up his last cigarette. Another effect of the President's smoking ban had been that he now chain smoked worse than ever, especially when he was drunk.
His eyelids grew heavy as he puffed on the cigarette and before he knew it they were fluttering shut. His hand slid down into the dirt, extinguishing the cigarette. After a few more minutes, soft snores issued from the back of his throat.
He was sure he had only closed his eyes for a moment when he found himself being shaken awake by a large, bald, black man wearing sunglasses despite the sunless nature of the city. He wore a navy blue suit like Reno's. He also wore an expression of extreme anger.
"Get up. Can you stand?"
Reno blinked languidly. "Rude? What are you doing in my house?"
"Dammit, Reno," he growled. He lifted him to his feet and slung his arm around his shoulder. Reno held onto him and looked around.
"What happened? I'm tired. Can we go home?"
"If you ever do this to me again I'm going to chop your head off and mount it on the wall in my living room."
"I love you, man." Reno leaned his head on Rude's shoulder. "You're the best friend ever. Man. I drank way too much. This guy from…God…where was he from…somewhere on the East Continent…maybe Rocket Town…he bought me some shots. Man. I'm so hammered."
"Your breath could catch fire," Rude's eyes watered as Reno breathed in his face. "You're unbelievable."
"I'was'jus'enjoyin'my day off, MAN," Reno frowned. "At least one of us knows how to have fun."
"There are a lot of nice bars in Sector 2. Why don't you ever go to one of those? Then you could walk home and I wouldn't have to deal with you at four in the goddamn morning on a Wednesday."
"Ah, man, those guys are all uppity in that bar. They don't know how to have fun. These slummers, man. They've got it. They know what it's about. This is where I came from, man. This is…these are my people!"
"They're not your people. They're only nice to you because they're afraid of you. We both know as soon as you put on that suit you stopped being a slum kid," Rude rolled his eyes. "I don't know why I'm even bothering right now. You're too drunk to remember this whenever you wake up later today."
"What?" Reno blinked.
"Nothing."
They made their way slowly through Sector 7 to the train station that would lead them back to the plate above. The normally twenty minute walk took them nearly twice that time, thanks in large part to Reno stopping frequently to point out something only he found hysterical. At one point, Rude tried to carry him, but he kicked and squirmed and nearly zapped them both with his stun rod.
Rude dragged Reno onto the train as soon as it pulled into the station, which wasn't for another fifteen minutes after they'd arrived; a fifteen minutes Rude and two other people waiting for the train spent listening to Reno's drunken rendition of a song from a popular musical that used to play in Sector 2.
The train was mostly empty, so Rude let Reno sprawl out on one side, propping his lanky legs onto the filthy cushions, and he sat across the car on the other side. The train rattled away with an announcement that it would make one final stop in Sector 8 before proceeding to the plate.
"Rude, you know, man, I just gotta tell you how much I love you," Reno drew shapes in the grime coating the train windows. "You are just my best friend. You know that? My numero uno. What would I do without you, you know?"
"Die, probably," Rude shrugged.
"Do you love me, Rude?"
"That's getting a little deep," Rude replied gruffly.
"Come on, MAN. Don't be like that. I know how you really feel. You love me. You're my partner in crime. We'd be lousy without each other."
"You'd be lousy without me," Rude half agreed.
"You'd be lonely without me, admit it. You would. You love me, dude. Even if you don't know how to show it because you're big meaty hunk of man who can't express his emotions."
"You only show yours when you're this drunk," Rude reminded him. "If you remember this later you're going to be embarrassed and pretend it never happened."
Reno waved the comment off. "Do you think one day we'll find true love and eternal happiness and I'll no longer have to drown my sorrows in booze and expensive sex?"
"I think it's now almost six in the morning and I'm too tired to have a philosophical conversation with you," Rude closed his eyes.
"Man, you're really the best."
"Uh-huh."
"I mean it. You're just…" Reno yawned loudly, "my best pal."
A loud chime jarred Reno awake for the second time that morning. "Now entering: Sector 2. This is the second to last stop on this line. Please exit at this stop for Sector 2."
Rude shoved Reno. "Get up, we're here."
Reno struggled to his feet, tired and beginning to feel the oncoming hangover his excessive drinking had earned him. He grabbed Rude's shoulder and they slowly made their way through the streets to their apartment complex.
The difference between the plate and the slums was recognizable immediately. The stench of garbage was gone; the air was cooler and slightly cleaner, though by no means healthy; and the buildings were in generally much better condition.
Reno and Rude lived in an apartment building that had been constructed specifically to house the Turks. The rent came directly out of their monthly checks, which left them only a little leftover to spend on food and other items. Reno didn't mind. He liked his apartment, he never ate much, and he had enough to buy the cigarettes and booze he wanted. Compared to his life before he became a Turk, he was living pretty large.
At that moment, all he could think of was how comfortable his bed would feel.
When they reached the building, a simple but elegant three story building with a brick façade, Rude unlocked the main door and helped Reno up the stairs to their floor. Rude's apartment was only two down the hall from Reno's, so they saw each other all the time, even outside of work. It also made it slightly more convenient when Reno called drunk like he had that night.
Rude propped Reno against the door to his apartment. "You got your keys?"
Reno patted his pockets until one of them jangled. He pulled out his key ring and struggled to find the right key. Rude watched him, his frustration mounting until he finally ripped the keys from his hands and unlocked the door for him.
"Go to bed. And you better be at work by noon tomorrow!"
Reno shrugged and slammed the door in Rude's face. He threw his blazer onto the floor and fell face first into his pillows where he promptly passed out.