I shiver, stomping my feet a bit to try and warm them as I smoke a cigarette that is, per Hannah's rules, forbidden within her home. Why the hell is it so damn cold outside now? I'm at Rufus', stuck here for the night with a kid who's been sleeping deeply since I got here and an aging guard hound who's been doing the same. I cased the home, like I do every time I come over even though I know Lee was here all day, and now I'm bored until little Caleb, with his big blue eyes and stick straight blonde hair wakes up to sneeze at me. I can see a little of Hannah in his face, but the four year old is a spitting image of his father.
Rufus and Hannah's story is actually fairly interesting, despite how cliche their romance is. They sound like something out of a bad romance novel, but it works for them so I can't complain. Rufus, the eccentric power hungry billionaire made vulnerable by injury, and Hannah, the physical therapist that taught him to walk, and to love. If they didn't fight sometimes I swear I'd vomit on them for the sheer mushiness of it all. About a year after they started dating, little Caleb came into the world and Rufus has been turning corners left and right with his personality. At first, he just wanted to stop the geostigma, afraid that since he'd caught it, his baby and wife-to-be would catch it too. Once that was gone and he actually got to be around the sticky little monster and it's mommy on a daily basis, he started getting behind the rebuilding of the world for less selfish reasons.
In my humble opinion, she's the best damn thing to happen to the man.
The light tapping of fingers on glass let's me know my charge is awake and I smile in spite of myself, stubbing the cigarette out and hiding it in one of the potted plants dotting the patio. I don't like to admit it, but I love this little kid. Caleb has an affect on all us Turks. He's more powerful than he would even be able to grasp, with six cold blooded killers wrapped around his little fingers, not counting his own father. We all spoil him, though we do our best not to. I've bought the kid I don't even know how many plush toys because I thought he'd like them. His bedroom is full of the damn things, not all my doing either. The spoiled little rat even has a separate room for his toys, we've all given him so many.
I slide the glass door open, a smile on my face as Caleb looks up at me with the most adorably miserable face. "Hey, snotface. How ya feelin'?"
Raising tiny hands to be picked up, he whines to me with a sniffle. "My nose hurts!"
I acquiesce, lifting him into my arms and letting him nuzzle into my shoulder. I took the sling off once Tseng and the others left the house, glad to be able to move my arm, even if it does hurt like hell. I know from personal experience that I can move my arm even with the bullet wound, they always try and immobilize me though because, I'll admit it, I tend to get stupid and do too much and make the damn stitches tear and I start to bleed again or get it infected or anything else on the laundry list of crap I do to myself due to a lack of patience for the healing process. I doubt lifting a toddler counts as extreme movement, however, and I would rather move my arm than let it sit for a week.
"That's cause it's full of snot, kiddo." I pull a handkerchief out of my pocket and hold it to his face. "Blow, squirt." He does so messily, and I return the now dirty cloth to my pocket. No sense in letting it get too far away if the tots nose is all stopped up. He rests his head on my shoulder and I feel his forehead, glad to know that it's cold. I don't want to deal with a feverish child. They're no fun.
"Uncle Reno, what's on your arm?" It still occasionally creeps me out that the four year old speaks more complete sentences than me, but Rufus and Hannah are adamant about babytalk. Thusly, while he pronounces things a little clumsily, this little tot almost sounds like an adult. It's not a bad thing, per se, but it is occasionally chilling.
"A bandage, kid. I got hurt." I've got a t-shirt on that I grabbed from the dresser Rufus has in a spare room for us Turks to store some personal effects. We've each got a drawer, but I'm pretty sure I stole this shirt out of Tseng's. It's baggy on my lean and wiry frame, but it's clean and comfortable. Normally I wouldn't have dared to, but I couldn't fit any of my own rather snug t-shirts over the bandage.
Caleb lightly touches the bandage and frowns as I carry him to the kitchen, his lower lip jutting out. "Were you fighting bad guys again?"
"Of course, kiddo. Who else would I fight?" I set him on the counter and his face brightens. He knows he gets to break rules when I'm here and sitting on the counter is definitely one of the best ones to break. It means he can reach his snacks, and those big blue eyes are already looking for something sweet to munch on. "Want some food?"
"Yes, please." He squirms a little, coughing into his elbow. It just serves that the kid is more polite than me too. Give him two years and he'll be smarter.
I dig through a cupboard, preparing to make soup for the little sicko. I probably know this kitchen better than my own, not that I cook much. It's mostly because I've gone over every inch of this house more times than I can count. "How does soup sound?"
Apparently it sounds pretty damn good, because he nods and watches me with those bright, bright blue eyes. He's so very like his father in looks, but his mannerisms have to be from Hannah's side of the family. I just can't imagine Rufus being this polite as a child. Of course, he probably got the belt from his dad a lot so maybe he was. I don't know. He and I don't ask each other about our respective childhoods. It would put a strain on the friendship we've managed to gain over the years to talk about stupid shit from our pasts.
I make his soup and let him eat it on the counter too, something that thrills him to no end. I make myself a sandwich, not because I'm particularly hungry, but because I know I haven't eaten since lunch and if I don't get something in me now I won't get another chance at it until Tseng carts Rufus and Hannah home. Once he's done eating, I clean up our mess in a half-assed kind of way and take him to his playroom. We pass Dark Nation on the way and I step carefully around the old bat, not wanting her to wake up in a start and try to beat me into submission with that tentacle of hers. She might be old as shit now, but Nation still hates me and is willing to get her creaky old bones in motion if it means she gets to try and chomp on me a little. She never draws blood anymore, but that damn tentacle still packs a wallop.
It seems like hours later, time spent blowing a tiny nose and playing with sock puppets and making an extravagant pillow fort and reading stupid stories to him, that the kid falls asleep again. It's a pity that he has, because he's laying on my chest, drooling a little and breathing shrill little snores. I can't bring myself to move him, so it's a damn good thing this mountain of plush toys we've turned into a lumpy bed of sorts is comfortable.
I don't realize at all when I fall asleep, boredom and general exhaustion pulling my eyes shut.
I do realize, however, when the front door opens. I wake, holding Caleb tighter, a book serving as his blanket where I left it over his back when I fell asleep. I lay still, listening past his snores to Dark Nations raspy bark as she greets Rufus and Hannah, relaxing when I realize who has entered the place. It's not like there haven't been WRO soldiers guarding the estate since we got here, but I feel guilty for having fallen asleep at my post and I do my best to seem like I've been awake the whole time when, eventually, padded feet lead happy and staggering parents to my young charge. When the playroom door is opened and it hits the wall, I realize that Rufus and Hannah must be a little far gone; normally they'd be cursing the scuff their doorknob would leave on the wall.
Dark Nation tugs the blanket off our makeshift fort and I blink, not realizing how dark it had gotten under the blanket once I turned off Caleb's tiny toy lantern. A forty watt bulb makes a lot more difference than one would think. I get a few seconds to blink before I have to respond to whispery giggles as Hannah, attempting to be quiet, tries to talk to me.
"H-how was Caleb?" She's a little loud, but the attempt the petite brunette makes is obvious.
"He was an angel, whaddaya think he was?" I smirk, taking the book off of Caleb's back as I sit up with him, trying very, very hard not to wake him.
It would have been a successful transition too had Rufus not spoken. He does seem to try and be quiet, but his normal speaking voice carries anyways so of course Caleb would hear his whispering attempt to be quiet. "You should babysit more often, Reno. Maybe I'll give you a permanent switch. You seem good at it."
"I wanna go pee." Any retort I would have made is interrupted by Caleb's statement and I quickly set him on sleep heavy feet to walk with his mother to the bathroom.
Rufus ruffles my hair, an odd display of affection that lets me know he really is drunk. He only plays with my hair to piss me off or when he's drunk. I bat his hand away, smirking at him. "Shit man, you guys had a helluva night, didn't you?"
"I even got Tseng to drink with us, Reno. Tseng! I am amazing." He snorts softly, moving to pat Dark Nation instead of me as she presses against him. She's watching me warily, still unable to trust me even after fourteen years of knowing me. Maybe it's because of that fact, actually.
"How'd you manage to do that?" I look up in genuine surprise, not quite ready to pull myself to my feet yet. I'm a little stiff. No matter how comfortable that plushie fortress was when I fell asleep, it was hell on my back. Lumpy, colorful, beady eyed hell.
"Told him we were celebrating." Rufus smirks, kneeling down with some difficulty to join me and Nation on the floor. He still has some trouble with motility, even five years after being half crushed, but I can understand that. We're in a similar state, he and I. I just had to get better faster by necessity. My work demands speed and precision. If he'd been crippled for the rest of his life, permanently wheelchair bound like the doctors had initially said he'd be, he'd still be able to sign papers and give speeches and throw money into the pockets he wanted. Were I crippled by Platefall, I'd be in a run down apartment living off a scant stipend from Shinra for my past duties to them. Or I'd have been shot. Who knows what Rufus would have had done with a lame horse like me if I couldn't have run the race for him anymore. I try not to think about that.
"What were you celebratin', exactly?" I stretch, hearing my back pop like bubble wrap.
"Hannah and I can finally get married, man!" Rufus' smile says it all; the stupid chapel thing he's been waiting on for their special day has been inspected and cleared and by the gods is it really ready? I could have sworn I drove past it a few weeks ago and it was still being worked on. Not that I've paid much attention, honestly. Rufus has been keeping what he calls his chapel and what I call his celebratory skyscraper close to the chest. Of course, we'll be casing the building over and over again before that wedding is ever allowed to happen there, but Rufus still wants us out of the loop on how it was planned.
"Glad to hear it, Ruffie." He must really be happy because he doesn't glower at me for the nickname, instead making kissy faces at Nation that she seems to appreciate, if her wiggling is any indication.
"Tseng's best man. Ain't that great? We asked him tonight. I thought about askin' you, ya know. I just figured he'd give a more professional speech where yours might be...profane." He snickers, rising to his feet again with difficulty.
"I ain't mad, Rufus. You were right. I would not have made a good speech." I smirk, getting to my feet much faster. I even manage to help him get upright a little faster. Nation growls at me when I grab his arm to steady him, but I ignore her. "Let's go get you tucked in with your pretty lady, huh? She's gotta be done tuckin' the tyke in by now."
"Yes, please." Rufus smiles at me as I lead him down the hall to his room and for a moment I see where Caleb might have taken pieces of Rufus' personality, but I know Rufus will be bitchy again come morning.
