A/N: (author runs away from a rabid, bald chocobo)
Cloud: I want my motherfucking hair back! (grabs said author and puts her in a half Nelson)
AT: OW! Son of a bitch! Fine! But...it'll cost you.
Cloud: I don't care what it costs! I want my hair back!
AT: (smirks) As you wish.
Disclaimer: I own nothing but morning sickness...which should not be called 'morning sickness' since I'm still suffering from it at 5:45 p.m.!
Cloud pulled the beanie down over his ears, the knitted cap hiding the shame that was his chrome dome. For what seemed like months, he'd hidden under the cover of beanies, bandannas and, on one occasion, a sombrero made of queso. That had been messy. He didn't want to think of that.
What he needed to think about was how he was going to part with the 'fee' needed for the hair restorative Reno had promised to get him from the Shin-Ra labs. The cost was high...but it wasn't measured in gil. No, the red-headed bastard wanted something decidedly more sinister and, for lack of a better word, Reno-ish.
To put it simply, he wanted Fenrir.
Cloud didn't know which made him want to cry like a little girl more; the fact that he was a mini Rude or that he was faced with parting with his beloved bike. His pride and joy. His love child. Well, maybe not his love child, since that would imply that he had sexual relations with a mechanical object at some point in his life (vibrating handheld pocket pussies didn't count, did they?). The point was, Fenrir was his baby. He'd built the bike himself. It was customized specifically for him! The seat was moulded to his man package, for Ifrit's sake!
Glancing in the mirror, he sighed. Could he go for gods knew how much longer without his head of chocobo butt looking hair? He missed the feel of the wind blowing through his hair as he rode Fenrir out on deliveries. But...what good was a motorcycle without hair for the wind to blow through? Conversely, what good was hair without a motorcycle to ride to make said wind blow through said hair? What a quandry the blond/bald now found himself in.
Taking another deep breath, Cloud turned from the mirror and stalked out of his room. He had a decision to make.
The rumble of the engine came to a stop as Cloud stepped off the bike one last time. Placing his hand on his custom moulded seat, he made Fenrir a promise. "I will get you back, my friend," he vowed solemnly. "I swear on my life."
"Not a chance, Baldy," Reno snickered, pushing himself off a tree and sauntering over to him. "Once this transaction is made, there's no refunds, exchanges, otherwise. Fenrir is mine."
"Whatever, you got the stuff?" Cloud asked, yanking off his beanie. Reno cringed at the sight and nodded, reaching into his jacket pocket. "It better work. And it better not grow out any color than my natural color."
"Swear to Odin, it's the real deal," Reno said, admiring his newly acquired bike as he handed a bottle of gel to Cloud. "Go on, try it out."
Cloud took the bottle and examined it. "If this isn't worth it, I'll kill you," he snarled, uncapping the bottle.
"Yeah, right," Reno snorted, climbing onto the bike. "You'll have the entire country of Wutai after your ass if you did that."
Cloud rubbed the gel on his head, shooting the red-head a skeptical look. "What the fuck are you talking about?" he snapped.
Reno smirked. "You can't kill Wutain royalty," he answered, leaning back on the bike and spreading his arms out. "I'm the king."
"The king of fucktards," Cloud scoffed, casting a low level water spell to wash the gel off his hands, lest they be covered with hair. "How long does it take for this stuff to work?"
"It's already working, Spikey," Reno said with a grin. He gestured toward one of Fenrir's mirrors. "Check it out."
Cloud looked at himself skeptically and nearly cried out in relief. Strike that, he squealed like a fangirl at all his awesome blond god glory. "I-it's back!" he yelled, face breaking out into a wondrous smile. In a moment of supreme giddiness, he threw his arms around the red-head, nearly knocking the other man off his newly acquired bike. "I can't believe I doubted you."
Reno snorted as he righted himself on the bike's seat. "I can," he said with a smirk. "We don't have the best track record, Spike."
Cloud scowled and shook his head. "Guess not," he replied, running his fingers through his hair, a sigh of contentment escaping his lips. He whipped out his cell phone and switched on the camera feature, taking a pic of himself in all his blond, chocobo headed glory. He sent a pic message to Tifa that read, "Thank, Ifrit, it's back!"
Reno rested his arms on the handle bars and regarded Cloud. "Satisfied?" he asked.
Cloud nodded, looking a little forlornly at Reno sitting atop of his motorcycle, his ass not quite fitting into the custom moulded seat. "Take good care of her," he stated quietly.
Reno saluted him as Cloud turned to leave, walking toward a cluster of trees. "Hey, Spikes," the red-head called. Cloud stopped before turning down the path by the trees. "Need a ride?"
Cloud gave a forced smile. "Nah, I'll be fine," he answered, disappearing behind the trees. Reno shook his head, running his hands along the bikes curves. A sudden growl filled his ears and then a steady purr. He looked down at the bike, wondering if he had mistakenly turned it on. His eyes shot up as he heard tires squealing, disbelief filling him as he watched Cloud tear out from behind the trees on...
Fenrir?!
Reno looked down at the bike he was sitting on, shock covering his face as a poof of smoke came out of it and it transformed into a regular little girl's two-wheeler, complete with bell and floral basket. Reno fell to the ground after the bike's transformation, cursing under his breath about double-crossing spikey haired demons.
Cloud chuckled as he watched Reno topple off the bike. He'd have to call and thank his new friend for teaching him that trick...what was it called again? Shadow Clone Jutsu? Whatever...spikey haired blonds had to stick together!
Believe it!
A/N: Yeah, I threw in a slight Naruto cross-over. My three year old thinks he's 'a nice boy...I love him...he tickles me'. Don't looked at me like that, she does! Anyway, this Part of Life was a double-cross, in case you couldn't tell, and if you couldn't, man, that means my writing is slipping. Hopefully...this means...I'm BaCk!