11:54 AM
Somewhere deep down in the raven-haired head of Yuffie Kisaragi a war raged. Crimson lips were drawn back in vicious snarls, revealing rows of chemically treated teeth that hadn't touched a piece of solid food for three weeks. Nails that were manicured, polished, painted, and then put through the whole process again just for fun rended designer material and gouged thirty dollar bottles of water.
She saw herself stumbling backwards, the result of a well thrown check from an ass so big the Wutain princess reckoned it should have its own zoning ordinances. She went to retaliate with a far less subtle burying of her stiletto heel into the back of the ladies throat, but the opportunity was lost as a pasty stick of a women charged in between them, seizing a sweater that Yuffie wouldn't use to sop up paint in both hands and clutching it to her chest like a newborn baby.
Jostled again, Yuffie was quicker this time, whirling on her heel and lashing out like a cat. Her nails raked across the jiggling cheek of a woman she recognized as the wife of one of the retired Pagoda lords of Wutai, who proceeded to shriek as if she'd just received a red hot poker suppository. Seeing blood, Yuffie pressed her attack, kicking the stunned lordess in the shoulder in a move that's supposed to just stun an opponent but sent the lady to the floor like a plummeting comet.
The ninja fell upon her like a possessed demon, teeth bared in the manic grin of a predator. "You think I'm going to just let you march in here and snatch up anything you want? On clearance sale day?! You'd better wake up you flubber coated bitch..."
"You'd better wake up."
12:01 PM
"Agh!"
In the pile of sheets, pillows, and 'relationship aiding devices'; as the backwater store's sign had so pompously labeled them, Yuffie sat up with her start. Her quickened breath told a little of the terror her eyes showed, and she clutched the nearest solid object- a relatively simply cylinder that became a miracle of God's creation when you thumbed the right series of buttons- so hard that it squeezed out of her hand and launched itself across the room.
"Reno!" she hissed into the darkness of the room. She had no idea what time it was, but their temporary place of dwelling was dark all day long. That fact had been begun when they rented a place with one window and was finished when she had nailed a bath towel over that singular sheet of glass the first time there had been a glare on their TV. She somehow doubted that her cry had actually waken the red-haired Turk, but ranted onward anyway, gathering the covers up to her chest in fear.
"I just had such a nightmare," she practically shrieked, "I had to squeeze my way around cellulose and silicone, and the smell of terrified Junon pool boy was everywhere, and I cared about clothing!" A shiver ran through her body, ending up at about her spine where it quivered for a moment and then settled down. Feeling a little bit better for getting her emotions out in the open, Yuffie glanced to the left.
"AGH!"
*That* woke Reno, though less because of the volume and more because he suddenly had four thin fingers pressing very tightly in his rib cage as if they intended to tickle his heard. They disappeared a moment later as Yuffie vaulted out of the bed and disappeared into the closet, followed instantly by the sound of crashing boxes and rustling material. In the time it took Reno to roll over and groan something incoherent about whether or not they turned off the VCR when they had decided to prove the guy in the porno wrong, she was back- dragging a massive box behind her.
"What's wrong?" he asked, and was instantly assailed by throbbing pain. You know you've been drinking too much when your own voice boomed in your ears. Somehow he doubted her answer would do little to solve his problem.
"Our wedding is in two hours!!" the near hysterical cry came, proving him right and causing him to sit up in a start. "How the hell did we sleep so late?"
"Sleep?" he asked incredulously. "Maybe you managed to sleep. I've been staring at our god damned ceiling for seven hours trying not to burst into tears."
Somewhere in her frantic scurry around the room, gathering wedding supplies that they really shouldn't have used recreationally the night before but had anyway, she found the time to throw a shoe at him for that last comment. He caught it easily and sat up with a laugh, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. When his hand pulled away he saw that Yuffie was staring at him, standing their in her pair of stolen boxers and nothing else. If memory served, he was wearing even less.
Their eyes met.
They froze.
12:19 PM
Searching fruitlessly through the air, Yuffie's hand ends up collapsing down onto the silken white pillow that lays on her head. She pulls it off and tosses it across the room, trying to curb the panting sound she was making to little or no effect. She glanced again at her clock- for a moment saw only her flushed and sticky reflection in its glass surface- and then let out a mild yelp. "Oh God," she groaned, "now we're going to be even later."
"Hey," Reno's voice came in protest, from somewhere under the bed itself, "you aren't allowed to complain. I mean, who's idea was it to throw my pants out the window? Huh? Huh?"
"Yours," she responded icily, rolling to her feet and running into the bathroom. Unless she wanted to get a really condemning look from the priest, she was going to have to brush her teeth thoroughly...
"Oh. Well... what about your bra? How about that?"
"You again."
"Fuck! I mean... skirt. The skirt."
"Any clothes that went out the window was either your doing or your idea," Yuffie said with some finality. This was the last statement exchanged for some time as the majority of their time was taken up retrieving- and often sponging off- their discarded items. Finally they were ready to go, or as ready as they were ever going to get, and ran outside the house and into the dark red convertible that- for tax reasons, his friend had shiftily told him- was Reno's for the week.
Tires smoked across pavement, and even with the occasional temporary pauses Reno took in order to button this, snap that, or remove whatever the hell *that* was from Yuffie's stocking they made record time in reaching the small church they had rented. They spilled out of the car and onto the street, before struggling vertical and racing off in opposite directions towards the rooms they had been told to change in before the wedding, leaving heavy footprints in the dew-wetted grass of the lot.
They left several more as they raced back for one final embrace, which was only two inches of leg away from becoming yet another twenty minute delay, and then went racing off again towards their future.
***
Eyes narrowed in self loathing, Reno slowly tucked his undershirt down into his pants. Six firings, three sanctions, and an eventual gun-point order from Tseng hadn't managed to make him do such a thing, but apparently his own impending damnation was enough. The pants themselves, like his jacket, were a dark navy blue; which had been a fight in itself with Yuffie. Something about not wanting him to buy his tux in the colors that signified his lifetime of murder and destruction, since he'd only be wearing the thing for about two hours in church.
Women, Reno reasoned, had the weirdest priorities.
He heard before he saw the entrance of Rude, a simple clicking of a door opened and shut almost as quietly as the man who entered. Seemingly ignoring his slowly dressing friend, the bald man made his way across the room to the well stocked bar Reno had demanded be present and poured himself a drink, sloshing the liquid around the ice for a few minutes before throwing it back. Now armed with enough alcohol to deal with whatever answer he was given, the sharpshooter called backwards to his friend while pouring another pick-me-up. "So how've you been, Reno?"
There was a heady pause, and Rude rolled his eyes as he turned.
"Reno, I asked how you were... oh."
The 'oh' part of that sentence was caused by what could only be described as the tomato that was now sitting on top of Reno's neck. From the chin up, the Turks skin was doing a hell of a job of mimicking the color of his hair, and paired with a set of bulging eyes and a popping vein in the upper left quadrant of his forehead the whole image was rather unsettling. Sighing, Rude set his glass down and walked over to Reno, putting an arm around his friend. "Buddy" he said slowly, "give me the tie."
Grumbling to himself, Reno unwound the tie from his neck, the correct color returning to his face almost instantly. With the petulant expression of a six year old he held the silky material out to his friend who snatched it away and pocketed it, all the while giving the impending groom a disapproving look. "Some best man you are," Reno snarled, "won't even let a guy choke himself to death with his tie. Isn't one of your duties to guard the door during suicide attempts anyway?"
Ignoring him, Rude returned to his drink. It had been with serious levels of trepidation that Reno had made the choice between his boss and his friend about which one would get the prestigious title, but in the end he just solved the problem the same way he always solved the really tough ones. He locked himself in a room with a strobe light and snorted crushed caffeine pills off a hookers back until he hallucinated one of their names floating in the air above him.
After finishing his second pre-emptory headache treatment for the night, Rude glanced at his watch, and then back up at Reno. He caught his friend's gaze in the mirror, only to find with serious discontent that the condemned man was giving him a look somewhat akin to the look a starving man gives a piece of steak. "You know," Reno said conversationally, but there was a desperate, almost hysteric catch in his voice, "I never noticed this before, but you look just like me. In fact, with a red wig..."
"No." Rude cut him off sharply. "And not just because I'm insulted by the implication I resemble your skinny white ass. It's time to go, Reno."
"I didn't even get a last meal," whined Reno under his breath, but when Rude left the room and made his way towards the final rehearsals Reno followed him anyway, like a stallion with a broken will. Even so, the best man figured it was well within his duty to keep a tight grip on his friend's shoulders as they walked, just in case something unexpected should happen.
On their way, they came across a door that would have been perfectly normal if not for a simple sign, hastily made, tacked to its oak surface. It said, in no uncertain terms, 'brides dressing room'. Rude groaned deep inside as Reno read these words, and a light sparked deep inside the eyes of the man. What he saw- a chance to start a final fight, perhaps to call things off once and for all, maybe- Rude didn't know. All he knew was that when Reno reached for the doorknob, he stopped him on instinct, drawing a scathing look from the redhead.
"Hey," Rude said in defense of his actions, "seeing a bride before the wedding is bad luck."
"You know," Reno said thoughtfully, "so is having one hand."
1:50 PM
"So," came a highly strained voice long since stripped of its patience, "is the discomfort of putting a dress on necessary or just another old tradition?"
"I think," came an equally impatient but mildly amused response, "its to appease all the angry single women sitting in the pews, hating you."
Standing poised on a stool in the center of the room like a pissed of porcelain doll was Yuffie, one leg dangling precariously in the air. Working tirelessly to shove the Wutain princess into her pure white dress was a red faced Elena and two servant girls from the house of Godo. Elena was the maid of honor, a title she'd gotten after making it quite clear that she planned on shooting whatever candidates Yuffie came up with for the job until her own name came to the top of the list.
Interrupting the mild banter of the two was the sound of an opening door, a swinging portal that slid out of the way to reveal the two Turks who had been standing on the other side. While Rude seemed to be recoiling backwards, scowling and clutching at his hand possessively, Reno seemed calm to the point of being deadpan. That mild manner disappeared quick, however, when his gaze fell upon his bride to be perched up on a stool, half dressed in her wedding gown, one leg poised in the air.
2:06 PM
"So," Yuffie said, sounding considerably more winded than before, "is the discomfort of putting the dress on necessary or is it just an old tradition?"
Straining to help pull the white fabric over flushed and sticky skin was Elena, who shot the ninja standing above her a withering look. "In this case," hissed the blonde Turk, forcing back a shudder, "I think it's a penance for tearing it off the first time around so you could screw in a church."
Despite the acid in the voice of the girl helping her dress, Yuffie didn't seem put out at all as she responded. "Look, he was in a *tux*. An actual tux. Granted, I have no idea where the tie was, but the tux was on."
There was a pause as Elena shook her head, and Yuffie glanced down questioningly.
"Did you see the tux?"
"I saw," came the slow response, "considerably more than the tux."
"Oh," the Wutain girl said slowly, wincing. "I guess this is the first time that you've seen Reno's penis. It's sort of a shock at first, I know."
Elena's outburst started with a chuckle, and then erupted into an all out cackle as she threw her head back. She laughed long and hard until, finally, the rapidly disturbed looks of the Wutain servant girls hushed her into silence, but even then she shook with silent glee. After the mirth had finally taken its toll she wiped her mouth and looked up, finding a narrowed set of brown eyes gleaming down at her.
"Um," she improvised, "I mean yes. First time."
Inwardly, she tried to get a mental picture of Reno when he actually had his pants *up*, and failed. Shaking the images away, she glanced up from her work for a moment, and caught something profoundly odd in the eyes of Yuffie Kisaragi.
"What's wrong?" she asked in surprise. "I mean, if I was marrying Reno I'd look upset too, but for some reason you actually seemed to be looking forward to this.
"I know," Yuffie said slowly, and sniffed. "It's just that I wish my mom could be here today. Every little girl dreams of growing up and disappointing their mother with the guy she marries. I miss her."
2:35 PM
Being selected as a bridesmaid or an usher in a wedding is usually dictates extreme honor. It says that not only do the bride and groom like you enough to give you this special title, but that they trust you not to bursts into random spurts of coughing during the phrase that's usually followed by 'or forever hold your peace'. Granted, Reno had spent about twenty minutes on the street with a fistful of twenties looking for someone to do just that, but no one ever accused the red haired Turk of being standard.
Even less usual was the seating pattern of the church. The left pews, designated for those from the bride's side in attendance, were packed to the point of bursting. Relatives, friends, dignitaries, working associates of her father and those who were simply trying to get on the good side of their future Queen. People were even standing, leaning against the left wall despite an open invitation to fill out the other side of the church- I'd rather stand, was the most common response, when someone was asked if they'd like to sit in the groom section.
The groom section which was, to put it nicely, a little thin. With most of the living people Reno knew better than 'hey you' as part of the wedding itself, the right side of the church consisted of less than ten people. The front row held four ladies that might be taken as sisters in the right light- their names were Brianna, Yvetter, Zell, and Tip, though their stage names were entirely different. They all looked reasonably distressed by the impending removal of the red head from the market, but not near as cut up...
...as the three girls who sat behind them. From left to right sat a girl with bright green eyes that somehow went hand in hand with her pink cat collar, and the black hair with red highlights did little to lessen the look; a distinctly Wutain looking girl with ebony hair, sharp eyebrows and a speckle of carpet dimples on her left cheek; and a slim figure with glitter covered nails and hair that looks red, but thanks to the series of dye jobs its taken is probably a new color altogether that human eyes can't distinguish. All three are on the verge of tears, even though most people usually hold that sort of thing off until the wedding actually begins.
In the very back of the church sat a man who looked more out of place than all of the rest of Reno's guests put together. His dark red leather jacket looked almost black in the poor lighting of the church, but their was no mistaking the color of his eyes as they seemed to have a spark of their own. He sat stiffly in the furthest pew, a bible open in his lap, drawing idly on the upper right side of the pages. Every once in a while he would turn a page and draw a bit more, before he finally finished his task and held the holy book up by one cover.
The movement drew the attention of a rather uncomfortable looking Tseng, who glanced up just in time to watch Vincent flip the pages, the different drawings blending together in a mini-movie. With each passing page Tseng's eyes widened a little more, until it looked like he had two saucers pasted onto his face. Standing behind him in her pale pink dress was Elena, who looked a lot less shocked than amazed.
"Did he draw that-" she began.
"Yes," Tseng didn't even let her finish.
"And were those two-"
"Yes."
"And that one guy-"
"Uh-huh."
"And that other guy-"
"Oh yes."
"Oh," Elena said shortly, and the two watched in silence as the movie finished itself off. Meeting the shimmering eyes of the artist responsible, Tseng audibly gulped.
Unlike most reverent church procedures, however, the honor and pride of the situation was nowhere to be found. It was replaced instead by a feeling of extreme unease as the opening strains of 'Here Comes the Bride' began to play, and the spot in the church usually occupied by the groom now houses solely a puddle of sweat, and a hanging feeling of emptiness. Glancing around nervously, Tseng leaned over and whispered quietly in Rude's ear.
"Where the hell," he growled slowly, "is Reno?"
"He said he needed to use the bathroom," Rude responded with a shrug.
Tseng fixed him with an almost horrified look. "And you actually believed him? How long have you been dipping into the little collection of plants Reno keeps in his closet, and be specific- it could mean the difference between life or death. Or a very, very twitchy life."
"Hey, I didn't believe him!" protested the bald Turk. "I took the tires from his car so he couldn't make any fast getaways."
Tseng considered. "What about-"
"-and all the other cars on the block," Rude assured him, "I know he can hot-wire basically anything with an engine."
"OK..." Tseng was nodding, "but what about escaping on foot? You've seen him when the bar tab gets called in, he runs like the wind."
"Not with the wild dogs patrolling outside, he won't be."
"How many?"
"Six."
For a long time, Tseng stood still, biting his bottom lip and working things out in his mind. "We," he said solemnly, "are drastically under prepared."
As if spurned onward by the Turk leaders words of woe, the doors leading into the church swing open, punctuated by a swell of the music. As one, the seated assembly rises to their feet and turns to watch the advancement of the future Queen of Wutai as she makes, what most of them have been calling this occasion, her first major mistake before taking power. What they are presented with, however, is the red-faced and scowling visage of the current leader of that nation, Godo Kisaragi, who marched down the carpet reserved for his daughter looking fit to burst.
Interesting side note... when Yuffie had been back in her glory days, planning this overblown event, she had been in momentary agony over who should give her away. Her father had been the obvious choice, but she'd been quite clear in stating that in the few months of employment and several murder attempts Tseng had been more of a father figure to her than her biological parent ever could have. The tie breaker had come, however, when she looked hard at the term 'giving away'... and decided her father had been dying to do that for years.
"Have either of you," he barked at Tseng and Rude, "seen my daughter?"
2:56 PM
Odd fact about the particular church in which Yuffie and Reno had chosen to get married. It had been built back in the dark days of religion, by a priest who had required a bit of privacy for his special tutoring sessions with the altar boys. The fact that those actions had become well known throughout the community but the lack of strong leadership had prevented any punishment from being distributed paired with a growing lack of faith and mistrust in organized religion created a disturbing time that is hard to imagine.
Off that particular digression and back to the beginning, the doors had to be sturdy in order to prevent any unfortunate barging in-upons. The particular redwood door with iron hinges and roughly eight deadbolts in question had survived three stumbling into's, half a dozen frustrated kicks and the concentrated shame of about a hundred pre-pubescent Sunday school students. It was no match, however, from its latest beatings, and with one final breathless heave it splintered like a match stick and collapsed to the thickly carpeted floor.
Tumbling after it was the entangled figures of the two individuals who were supposed to in the center stage even as we speak. Groaning from an unfortunate landing on the iron knob, Reno rolled over to his side and shot a tired grin at his fiancee, who was staring at her hand as if it was an independent creature.
"Woo," she said eloquently, "I feel dizzy."
"Thanks," Reno snickered, "but I'm pretty sure its from the jar of ammonia we broke. Honestly, who uses a janitor's closet to stock cleaning supplies? Don't they know people fool around in those things?"
"A jar of ammonia?" she responded dreamily, "Could you knock it over again?"
Reno blinked, thought over her words, and blinked again. "That was either some very encouraging innuendo or fume induced hallucinatory babble."
"...yes?"
With a chuckle, Reno rolls to his feet, the laugh warping into a groan as every disc in his spine lets out a popping noise with the movement. Rubbing his back with one hand, he reached down with the other and grasped Yuffie by the wrist, hauling her up to her feet and out of the immediate proximity of the spilled chemical. She shook her head to clear her mind, idly returning her dress to its upright and locked position.
"Come on babe," Reno almost whispered, cocking his head to one side as the strains of music finally reached his mind, "It's time we go get hitched."
"You seem eager," Yuffie said, unable to keep the suspicions out of her voice. "I thought you were dreading this."
"Look..." Reno ran a hand back through his hair, staring at nothing at all off in the distance, "I've been thinking. I mean, we've fucked three times in as many hours *before our wedding*. You let me plan out the reception on my own, and your only comment on the almost obscene amount of strippers I've invited is that you wanted to try on one of their outfits. You chose the honeymoon, and we're going on a motorcycle riding tour of the east continents weapon shops. I mean..."
He faltered for a second, chewing on the inside of his cheek, and Yuffie looked at him in genuine surprise. It wasn't often you'd find a Turk at a loss for words, let alone embarrassed, and with this particular Turk it was unheard of.
"You aren't just everything I'm looking for in somebody else," he continued slowly, unsure where exactly the words were coming from, "you're everything that I'm looking for in myself. I love you with everything I have, babe."
He paused, finally met her eyes, finally smiled.
"So sponge off, cause we're getting married."
Somewhere deep down in the raven-haired head of Yuffie Kisaragi a war raged. Crimson lips were drawn back in vicious snarls, revealing rows of chemically treated teeth that hadn't touched a piece of solid food for three weeks. Nails that were manicured, polished, painted, and then put through the whole process again just for fun rended designer material and gouged thirty dollar bottles of water.
She saw herself stumbling backwards, the result of a well thrown check from an ass so big the Wutain princess reckoned it should have its own zoning ordinances. She went to retaliate with a far less subtle burying of her stiletto heel into the back of the ladies throat, but the opportunity was lost as a pasty stick of a women charged in between them, seizing a sweater that Yuffie wouldn't use to sop up paint in both hands and clutching it to her chest like a newborn baby.
Jostled again, Yuffie was quicker this time, whirling on her heel and lashing out like a cat. Her nails raked across the jiggling cheek of a woman she recognized as the wife of one of the retired Pagoda lords of Wutai, who proceeded to shriek as if she'd just received a red hot poker suppository. Seeing blood, Yuffie pressed her attack, kicking the stunned lordess in the shoulder in a move that's supposed to just stun an opponent but sent the lady to the floor like a plummeting comet.
The ninja fell upon her like a possessed demon, teeth bared in the manic grin of a predator. "You think I'm going to just let you march in here and snatch up anything you want? On clearance sale day?! You'd better wake up you flubber coated bitch..."
"You'd better wake up."
12:01 PM
"Agh!"
In the pile of sheets, pillows, and 'relationship aiding devices'; as the backwater store's sign had so pompously labeled them, Yuffie sat up with her start. Her quickened breath told a little of the terror her eyes showed, and she clutched the nearest solid object- a relatively simply cylinder that became a miracle of God's creation when you thumbed the right series of buttons- so hard that it squeezed out of her hand and launched itself across the room.
"Reno!" she hissed into the darkness of the room. She had no idea what time it was, but their temporary place of dwelling was dark all day long. That fact had been begun when they rented a place with one window and was finished when she had nailed a bath towel over that singular sheet of glass the first time there had been a glare on their TV. She somehow doubted that her cry had actually waken the red-haired Turk, but ranted onward anyway, gathering the covers up to her chest in fear.
"I just had such a nightmare," she practically shrieked, "I had to squeeze my way around cellulose and silicone, and the smell of terrified Junon pool boy was everywhere, and I cared about clothing!" A shiver ran through her body, ending up at about her spine where it quivered for a moment and then settled down. Feeling a little bit better for getting her emotions out in the open, Yuffie glanced to the left.
"AGH!"
*That* woke Reno, though less because of the volume and more because he suddenly had four thin fingers pressing very tightly in his rib cage as if they intended to tickle his heard. They disappeared a moment later as Yuffie vaulted out of the bed and disappeared into the closet, followed instantly by the sound of crashing boxes and rustling material. In the time it took Reno to roll over and groan something incoherent about whether or not they turned off the VCR when they had decided to prove the guy in the porno wrong, she was back- dragging a massive box behind her.
"What's wrong?" he asked, and was instantly assailed by throbbing pain. You know you've been drinking too much when your own voice boomed in your ears. Somehow he doubted her answer would do little to solve his problem.
"Our wedding is in two hours!!" the near hysterical cry came, proving him right and causing him to sit up in a start. "How the hell did we sleep so late?"
"Sleep?" he asked incredulously. "Maybe you managed to sleep. I've been staring at our god damned ceiling for seven hours trying not to burst into tears."
Somewhere in her frantic scurry around the room, gathering wedding supplies that they really shouldn't have used recreationally the night before but had anyway, she found the time to throw a shoe at him for that last comment. He caught it easily and sat up with a laugh, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. When his hand pulled away he saw that Yuffie was staring at him, standing their in her pair of stolen boxers and nothing else. If memory served, he was wearing even less.
Their eyes met.
They froze.
12:19 PM
Searching fruitlessly through the air, Yuffie's hand ends up collapsing down onto the silken white pillow that lays on her head. She pulls it off and tosses it across the room, trying to curb the panting sound she was making to little or no effect. She glanced again at her clock- for a moment saw only her flushed and sticky reflection in its glass surface- and then let out a mild yelp. "Oh God," she groaned, "now we're going to be even later."
"Hey," Reno's voice came in protest, from somewhere under the bed itself, "you aren't allowed to complain. I mean, who's idea was it to throw my pants out the window? Huh? Huh?"
"Yours," she responded icily, rolling to her feet and running into the bathroom. Unless she wanted to get a really condemning look from the priest, she was going to have to brush her teeth thoroughly...
"Oh. Well... what about your bra? How about that?"
"You again."
"Fuck! I mean... skirt. The skirt."
"Any clothes that went out the window was either your doing or your idea," Yuffie said with some finality. This was the last statement exchanged for some time as the majority of their time was taken up retrieving- and often sponging off- their discarded items. Finally they were ready to go, or as ready as they were ever going to get, and ran outside the house and into the dark red convertible that- for tax reasons, his friend had shiftily told him- was Reno's for the week.
Tires smoked across pavement, and even with the occasional temporary pauses Reno took in order to button this, snap that, or remove whatever the hell *that* was from Yuffie's stocking they made record time in reaching the small church they had rented. They spilled out of the car and onto the street, before struggling vertical and racing off in opposite directions towards the rooms they had been told to change in before the wedding, leaving heavy footprints in the dew-wetted grass of the lot.
They left several more as they raced back for one final embrace, which was only two inches of leg away from becoming yet another twenty minute delay, and then went racing off again towards their future.
***
Eyes narrowed in self loathing, Reno slowly tucked his undershirt down into his pants. Six firings, three sanctions, and an eventual gun-point order from Tseng hadn't managed to make him do such a thing, but apparently his own impending damnation was enough. The pants themselves, like his jacket, were a dark navy blue; which had been a fight in itself with Yuffie. Something about not wanting him to buy his tux in the colors that signified his lifetime of murder and destruction, since he'd only be wearing the thing for about two hours in church.
Women, Reno reasoned, had the weirdest priorities.
He heard before he saw the entrance of Rude, a simple clicking of a door opened and shut almost as quietly as the man who entered. Seemingly ignoring his slowly dressing friend, the bald man made his way across the room to the well stocked bar Reno had demanded be present and poured himself a drink, sloshing the liquid around the ice for a few minutes before throwing it back. Now armed with enough alcohol to deal with whatever answer he was given, the sharpshooter called backwards to his friend while pouring another pick-me-up. "So how've you been, Reno?"
There was a heady pause, and Rude rolled his eyes as he turned.
"Reno, I asked how you were... oh."
The 'oh' part of that sentence was caused by what could only be described as the tomato that was now sitting on top of Reno's neck. From the chin up, the Turks skin was doing a hell of a job of mimicking the color of his hair, and paired with a set of bulging eyes and a popping vein in the upper left quadrant of his forehead the whole image was rather unsettling. Sighing, Rude set his glass down and walked over to Reno, putting an arm around his friend. "Buddy" he said slowly, "give me the tie."
Grumbling to himself, Reno unwound the tie from his neck, the correct color returning to his face almost instantly. With the petulant expression of a six year old he held the silky material out to his friend who snatched it away and pocketed it, all the while giving the impending groom a disapproving look. "Some best man you are," Reno snarled, "won't even let a guy choke himself to death with his tie. Isn't one of your duties to guard the door during suicide attempts anyway?"
Ignoring him, Rude returned to his drink. It had been with serious levels of trepidation that Reno had made the choice between his boss and his friend about which one would get the prestigious title, but in the end he just solved the problem the same way he always solved the really tough ones. He locked himself in a room with a strobe light and snorted crushed caffeine pills off a hookers back until he hallucinated one of their names floating in the air above him.
After finishing his second pre-emptory headache treatment for the night, Rude glanced at his watch, and then back up at Reno. He caught his friend's gaze in the mirror, only to find with serious discontent that the condemned man was giving him a look somewhat akin to the look a starving man gives a piece of steak. "You know," Reno said conversationally, but there was a desperate, almost hysteric catch in his voice, "I never noticed this before, but you look just like me. In fact, with a red wig..."
"No." Rude cut him off sharply. "And not just because I'm insulted by the implication I resemble your skinny white ass. It's time to go, Reno."
"I didn't even get a last meal," whined Reno under his breath, but when Rude left the room and made his way towards the final rehearsals Reno followed him anyway, like a stallion with a broken will. Even so, the best man figured it was well within his duty to keep a tight grip on his friend's shoulders as they walked, just in case something unexpected should happen.
On their way, they came across a door that would have been perfectly normal if not for a simple sign, hastily made, tacked to its oak surface. It said, in no uncertain terms, 'brides dressing room'. Rude groaned deep inside as Reno read these words, and a light sparked deep inside the eyes of the man. What he saw- a chance to start a final fight, perhaps to call things off once and for all, maybe- Rude didn't know. All he knew was that when Reno reached for the doorknob, he stopped him on instinct, drawing a scathing look from the redhead.
"Hey," Rude said in defense of his actions, "seeing a bride before the wedding is bad luck."
"You know," Reno said thoughtfully, "so is having one hand."
1:50 PM
"So," came a highly strained voice long since stripped of its patience, "is the discomfort of putting a dress on necessary or just another old tradition?"
"I think," came an equally impatient but mildly amused response, "its to appease all the angry single women sitting in the pews, hating you."
Standing poised on a stool in the center of the room like a pissed of porcelain doll was Yuffie, one leg dangling precariously in the air. Working tirelessly to shove the Wutain princess into her pure white dress was a red faced Elena and two servant girls from the house of Godo. Elena was the maid of honor, a title she'd gotten after making it quite clear that she planned on shooting whatever candidates Yuffie came up with for the job until her own name came to the top of the list.
Interrupting the mild banter of the two was the sound of an opening door, a swinging portal that slid out of the way to reveal the two Turks who had been standing on the other side. While Rude seemed to be recoiling backwards, scowling and clutching at his hand possessively, Reno seemed calm to the point of being deadpan. That mild manner disappeared quick, however, when his gaze fell upon his bride to be perched up on a stool, half dressed in her wedding gown, one leg poised in the air.
2:06 PM
"So," Yuffie said, sounding considerably more winded than before, "is the discomfort of putting the dress on necessary or is it just an old tradition?"
Straining to help pull the white fabric over flushed and sticky skin was Elena, who shot the ninja standing above her a withering look. "In this case," hissed the blonde Turk, forcing back a shudder, "I think it's a penance for tearing it off the first time around so you could screw in a church."
Despite the acid in the voice of the girl helping her dress, Yuffie didn't seem put out at all as she responded. "Look, he was in a *tux*. An actual tux. Granted, I have no idea where the tie was, but the tux was on."
There was a pause as Elena shook her head, and Yuffie glanced down questioningly.
"Did you see the tux?"
"I saw," came the slow response, "considerably more than the tux."
"Oh," the Wutain girl said slowly, wincing. "I guess this is the first time that you've seen Reno's penis. It's sort of a shock at first, I know."
Elena's outburst started with a chuckle, and then erupted into an all out cackle as she threw her head back. She laughed long and hard until, finally, the rapidly disturbed looks of the Wutain servant girls hushed her into silence, but even then she shook with silent glee. After the mirth had finally taken its toll she wiped her mouth and looked up, finding a narrowed set of brown eyes gleaming down at her.
"Um," she improvised, "I mean yes. First time."
Inwardly, she tried to get a mental picture of Reno when he actually had his pants *up*, and failed. Shaking the images away, she glanced up from her work for a moment, and caught something profoundly odd in the eyes of Yuffie Kisaragi.
"What's wrong?" she asked in surprise. "I mean, if I was marrying Reno I'd look upset too, but for some reason you actually seemed to be looking forward to this.
"I know," Yuffie said slowly, and sniffed. "It's just that I wish my mom could be here today. Every little girl dreams of growing up and disappointing their mother with the guy she marries. I miss her."
2:35 PM
Being selected as a bridesmaid or an usher in a wedding is usually dictates extreme honor. It says that not only do the bride and groom like you enough to give you this special title, but that they trust you not to bursts into random spurts of coughing during the phrase that's usually followed by 'or forever hold your peace'. Granted, Reno had spent about twenty minutes on the street with a fistful of twenties looking for someone to do just that, but no one ever accused the red haired Turk of being standard.
Even less usual was the seating pattern of the church. The left pews, designated for those from the bride's side in attendance, were packed to the point of bursting. Relatives, friends, dignitaries, working associates of her father and those who were simply trying to get on the good side of their future Queen. People were even standing, leaning against the left wall despite an open invitation to fill out the other side of the church- I'd rather stand, was the most common response, when someone was asked if they'd like to sit in the groom section.
The groom section which was, to put it nicely, a little thin. With most of the living people Reno knew better than 'hey you' as part of the wedding itself, the right side of the church consisted of less than ten people. The front row held four ladies that might be taken as sisters in the right light- their names were Brianna, Yvetter, Zell, and Tip, though their stage names were entirely different. They all looked reasonably distressed by the impending removal of the red head from the market, but not near as cut up...
...as the three girls who sat behind them. From left to right sat a girl with bright green eyes that somehow went hand in hand with her pink cat collar, and the black hair with red highlights did little to lessen the look; a distinctly Wutain looking girl with ebony hair, sharp eyebrows and a speckle of carpet dimples on her left cheek; and a slim figure with glitter covered nails and hair that looks red, but thanks to the series of dye jobs its taken is probably a new color altogether that human eyes can't distinguish. All three are on the verge of tears, even though most people usually hold that sort of thing off until the wedding actually begins.
In the very back of the church sat a man who looked more out of place than all of the rest of Reno's guests put together. His dark red leather jacket looked almost black in the poor lighting of the church, but their was no mistaking the color of his eyes as they seemed to have a spark of their own. He sat stiffly in the furthest pew, a bible open in his lap, drawing idly on the upper right side of the pages. Every once in a while he would turn a page and draw a bit more, before he finally finished his task and held the holy book up by one cover.
The movement drew the attention of a rather uncomfortable looking Tseng, who glanced up just in time to watch Vincent flip the pages, the different drawings blending together in a mini-movie. With each passing page Tseng's eyes widened a little more, until it looked like he had two saucers pasted onto his face. Standing behind him in her pale pink dress was Elena, who looked a lot less shocked than amazed.
"Did he draw that-" she began.
"Yes," Tseng didn't even let her finish.
"And were those two-"
"Yes."
"And that one guy-"
"Uh-huh."
"And that other guy-"
"Oh yes."
"Oh," Elena said shortly, and the two watched in silence as the movie finished itself off. Meeting the shimmering eyes of the artist responsible, Tseng audibly gulped.
Unlike most reverent church procedures, however, the honor and pride of the situation was nowhere to be found. It was replaced instead by a feeling of extreme unease as the opening strains of 'Here Comes the Bride' began to play, and the spot in the church usually occupied by the groom now houses solely a puddle of sweat, and a hanging feeling of emptiness. Glancing around nervously, Tseng leaned over and whispered quietly in Rude's ear.
"Where the hell," he growled slowly, "is Reno?"
"He said he needed to use the bathroom," Rude responded with a shrug.
Tseng fixed him with an almost horrified look. "And you actually believed him? How long have you been dipping into the little collection of plants Reno keeps in his closet, and be specific- it could mean the difference between life or death. Or a very, very twitchy life."
"Hey, I didn't believe him!" protested the bald Turk. "I took the tires from his car so he couldn't make any fast getaways."
Tseng considered. "What about-"
"-and all the other cars on the block," Rude assured him, "I know he can hot-wire basically anything with an engine."
"OK..." Tseng was nodding, "but what about escaping on foot? You've seen him when the bar tab gets called in, he runs like the wind."
"Not with the wild dogs patrolling outside, he won't be."
"How many?"
"Six."
For a long time, Tseng stood still, biting his bottom lip and working things out in his mind. "We," he said solemnly, "are drastically under prepared."
As if spurned onward by the Turk leaders words of woe, the doors leading into the church swing open, punctuated by a swell of the music. As one, the seated assembly rises to their feet and turns to watch the advancement of the future Queen of Wutai as she makes, what most of them have been calling this occasion, her first major mistake before taking power. What they are presented with, however, is the red-faced and scowling visage of the current leader of that nation, Godo Kisaragi, who marched down the carpet reserved for his daughter looking fit to burst.
Interesting side note... when Yuffie had been back in her glory days, planning this overblown event, she had been in momentary agony over who should give her away. Her father had been the obvious choice, but she'd been quite clear in stating that in the few months of employment and several murder attempts Tseng had been more of a father figure to her than her biological parent ever could have. The tie breaker had come, however, when she looked hard at the term 'giving away'... and decided her father had been dying to do that for years.
"Have either of you," he barked at Tseng and Rude, "seen my daughter?"
2:56 PM
Odd fact about the particular church in which Yuffie and Reno had chosen to get married. It had been built back in the dark days of religion, by a priest who had required a bit of privacy for his special tutoring sessions with the altar boys. The fact that those actions had become well known throughout the community but the lack of strong leadership had prevented any punishment from being distributed paired with a growing lack of faith and mistrust in organized religion created a disturbing time that is hard to imagine.
Off that particular digression and back to the beginning, the doors had to be sturdy in order to prevent any unfortunate barging in-upons. The particular redwood door with iron hinges and roughly eight deadbolts in question had survived three stumbling into's, half a dozen frustrated kicks and the concentrated shame of about a hundred pre-pubescent Sunday school students. It was no match, however, from its latest beatings, and with one final breathless heave it splintered like a match stick and collapsed to the thickly carpeted floor.
Tumbling after it was the entangled figures of the two individuals who were supposed to in the center stage even as we speak. Groaning from an unfortunate landing on the iron knob, Reno rolled over to his side and shot a tired grin at his fiancee, who was staring at her hand as if it was an independent creature.
"Woo," she said eloquently, "I feel dizzy."
"Thanks," Reno snickered, "but I'm pretty sure its from the jar of ammonia we broke. Honestly, who uses a janitor's closet to stock cleaning supplies? Don't they know people fool around in those things?"
"A jar of ammonia?" she responded dreamily, "Could you knock it over again?"
Reno blinked, thought over her words, and blinked again. "That was either some very encouraging innuendo or fume induced hallucinatory babble."
"...yes?"
With a chuckle, Reno rolls to his feet, the laugh warping into a groan as every disc in his spine lets out a popping noise with the movement. Rubbing his back with one hand, he reached down with the other and grasped Yuffie by the wrist, hauling her up to her feet and out of the immediate proximity of the spilled chemical. She shook her head to clear her mind, idly returning her dress to its upright and locked position.
"Come on babe," Reno almost whispered, cocking his head to one side as the strains of music finally reached his mind, "It's time we go get hitched."
"You seem eager," Yuffie said, unable to keep the suspicions out of her voice. "I thought you were dreading this."
"Look..." Reno ran a hand back through his hair, staring at nothing at all off in the distance, "I've been thinking. I mean, we've fucked three times in as many hours *before our wedding*. You let me plan out the reception on my own, and your only comment on the almost obscene amount of strippers I've invited is that you wanted to try on one of their outfits. You chose the honeymoon, and we're going on a motorcycle riding tour of the east continents weapon shops. I mean..."
He faltered for a second, chewing on the inside of his cheek, and Yuffie looked at him in genuine surprise. It wasn't often you'd find a Turk at a loss for words, let alone embarrassed, and with this particular Turk it was unheard of.
"You aren't just everything I'm looking for in somebody else," he continued slowly, unsure where exactly the words were coming from, "you're everything that I'm looking for in myself. I love you with everything I have, babe."
He paused, finally met her eyes, finally smiled.
"So sponge off, cause we're getting married."