Author's Notes: 60 minute challenge dedicated to the kitten. Occurs after the theme Teamwork. Sadly Mister Floor isn't around again, but it's still funny. Matching casts, fear it! Oh, and with the posting of this theme I have now exceeded /shameless plug/ the word count of Reyning Down. Which means Blue Prints For Life is now my wordiest, most chapterific, greatest hit and review count, and all around bestest of my fics! Fear the drabble wrath!
Theme: Taste
Not Again
He knew he'd said it once, he figured that he would say it many more times, but it had to be said. Taking the advice of a Turk was far from something that he should ever consider doing. And this was just yet another case in point, and not that long after the last one. In fact, I'm still wearing the cast from the last time I had allowed the Turks to drag me out for a night on the town.
It had all started innocently enough, as it always seems to do. I was working late, the clock probably reading sometime after nine at night and my stomach was protesting. Still, I could not leave just yet. With my right hand in a cast from the last evening out with the Turks, signing my paperwork had been quite difficult. I had been forced to slowly, meticulously practicing upon scratch paper just before signing each document. Coupled with reading through them and trying my best to type out some reports, the day was probably already going to be two hours longer than normal if things went well. The Planet knew that things never went well when I really needed them to either.
Knock, knock, knock.
With a sigh I looked up at the doorway of my office, fearing the normal sight that it no doubt had to be. Sure enough there was the shock of red hair, the ice blue eyes, the professionally disheveled appearance and the cocky smirk that I had come to learn that even twenty mako-shots in a drinking competition with Rude could not wipe off.
"Reeve, you're still here?" the youngest of the male Turks asked, eyebrow raised.
"Where else would I be? I have work remember? And it doesn't help that Tseng broke my wrist…" I grumbled, trailing off.
"Yeah, I know. But you shouldn't have tried to feel him up like that. You know Tseng is a stickler for his personal space. It didn't even cross his mind that you were just a drunk widower in need of comfort," he responded, ducking a pen thrown by my far weaker left hand with ease.
Before I could snap out a witty response (and yes, despite your chuckling, I'll have you know that I have plenty of witty responses ready just for Reno) a disturbing sound reached my ears. The tell-tale growl of hunger. I was so used to it. Once it had interrupted a meeting between Tseng and I, and that had been quite uncomfortable. But the look in Reno's eyes was the far more disturbing thing.
"Hungry huh?" the red-head chuckled. "I think I can remedy that."
"Please, I'm fine here. I'll order some food…"
"No you won't," Reno said with annoyance, moving from the door to lean against my desk. "You eat with your left while you type with your right Reeve. You can't work and eat at the same time my naïve little executive. And Planet knows that you'll just avoid eating, and we can't have that. Come on, what say you and me drag the others out to get some food okay? Tseng can pay to make up to you for breaking your weak little wrist."
After a few minutes of a staring match with the mako-enhanced Turk I let out a resigned sigh. There was no choice this time. Reno would without a doubt win the competition. Which meant if I went with him now I would spare myself the headache and possibly get some civilized conversation while I was at it.
"Fine… But none of that spicy shit that you like Reno. I'm far from the mood to be in when grabbing a glass of water ever other bite."
The grin of the Turk doubled in size. A groan that was nearly one of pain escaped me at the realization that I was technically at Reno's whim at the moment. Shit. What had I done to deserved this?
"Why not sushi then? It's not really all that spicy," the red-head suggested.
I was almost shocked. That answer was almost logical actually. Reeve loved sushi, Tseng always agreed to pay for dinner when it was sushi, and it wouldn't lead to the pains of the water and annoyance of spicy foods that Reno always seemed to opt for.
"Reno, I think that actually might be the most intelligent thing you've ever said."
"What about that time when…" he started, and I quickly cut him off.
"Please, don't push your luck."
So, with little trouble the two of us ventured down to Tseng's office to badger the Wutain into the idea of going out for dinner. Once more Reno proved himself to be good for something other than being a Turk. By pointing out that Tseng owed me for the arm thing, and that everyone enjoyed sushi anyway, the Wutain actually rose and headed out within ten minutes. Quickly the red-head ran off to fetch Rude.
"You really don't blame me for breaking your wrist do you right?" Tseng asked as we headed for the elevator, where we would await the other Turks.
"Not really Tseng. I mean yeah, things are difficult to do now and stuff, but it also gets Scarlet to back the hell off which is always good, and Heidegger has turned into a simpering fool because he thinks I'll blame it on him since you are the captain of HIS Turks."
A slight smile touched the features of the worried, and STILL coffee-obsessed Wutain. In fact, was that a Styrofoam cup in his hand with coffee in it right now? Oy, one could not separate the Wutain from the coffee. He'd probably be drinking it even when we were having dinner.
"Yo, what are we all waiting for? The sushi is totally calling my name!" Reno shouted dramatically as he came up to us with Rude in tow.
"Waiting for you alone Reno. Can't let the mastermind be left behind," Tseng grumbled in annoyance.
This comment even earned a smirk from the stoic Rude. Maybe this night wouldn't be so bad…
For about three minutes I looked in confusion at the low table. Tseng was seated in a manner suiting his Wutain heritage as he sipped at a cup of coffee. Reno was there, as always, cross-legged upon the floor playing around with a small bottle of rice-wine. Opposite him Rude shifted uncomfortably, as he often did when we were at places that involved these damn low tables. And as for myself… With the hand in a cast it was hard to sit down, stand up, and worst of all, grip things with my chopsticks. Reno laughed as I glared down at the wooden sticks, and I couldn't blame him. I was so close to breaking them in half with my anger. Except breaking them in half would require the use of both of my hands. Damnit.
"Maybe you should order something else Reeve, something you can use a fork on?" Tseng suggested before taking another sip of his expensive coffee.
"Anything you want to suggest?" I queried, picking up my menu as best I could with but one hand.
"Rude, check it out… I didn't kill my wife, it was the one armed man. Yeah, that one over there…" Reno laughed as he pointed at men before taking another drink of the potent foreign alcohol.
"Reno," Rude sighed, "You've seen The Fugitive far too many times."
"I got it in DVD man," the youngest Turk chuckled near manically.
"Here," Tseng said, pointing to an item upon the menu. "You'll like this."
The title of the dish was written in a red ink whereas the rest of the Wutain names were written all in blue, but I quickly passed over that piece of information. "Have you had it before?"
"Yes. It is very delicious. An important delicacy in Wutai…"
"And why is that?"
"I…" Tseng started, then looked dazed. "I don't remember." Then he glared at Reno. "You've been putting sake in my coffee haven't you?"
"Took ya this long to notice?" the young Turk sniggered. "Man, that must be some powerful stuff to hide the taste of sake this early in the night."
It was then that the waiter returned. "Will there be anything else sirs?"
"Yes, can you get my friend here one of these?" Tseng asked, pointing to the item upon the menu. "And a fork. His arm has impaired his ability with chopsticks."
"Mister Tseng, are you sure…" the waiter began, only to be cut off by the mildly buzzed Wutain.
"I am sure. I have it all of the time. Now go on and don't come back without the food."
The waiter bowed nervously and fled.
It did not even occur to me to question the Wutain as to what the food was, or why it was written in red until far later. If I had then there might have been a lot less troubles…
The two Turk subordinates were once again engaged in a drinking match when my meal arrived. Once again Tseng was sipping at his coffee, laced happily with sake this time. And most importantly, it was going to turn out poorly again.
"Sir, your meal," the waiter said before setting the plate before me. Then he backed away slowly. Without hesitation I took the fork up in my left hand and set about the eating of the meal. At first the bitter undertones of the food was a horrid thing to experience, but soon it actually became a quite exciting comfort. Halfway through the fillet I was laughing as hard as Reno at some dumb joke that after a minute I couldn't even remember. Yet most disturbing was the way that the room was blurring a little bit.
It wasn't until I once again found my hands, well, just uninjured hand this time, wandering that I realized something really must be wrong. The way my hands danced over Tseng's pant leg again, in a near déjà vu with a feeling that generated more warmth you know where, was surreal, since I thought I could feel each specific ripple in the fabric. Everything around me started to slow down. It seemed like it took ten minutes for Rude to raise his bottle of sake to his lips, and Reno an hour to finish some silly joke about a guy walking into a bar. Then I felt the slightly calloused fingers of Tseng alight upon my wrist and whimpered preemptively at what I knew was coming. The world melted back into real time as the audible snap of my left hand cut into the joy of the room.
Reno and Rude stared in shock at the odd angle my wrist was bent in, worse than my right wrist had been a few weeks previous. Oddest was that I felt no pain, only the same numbness I felt on my tongue eating the fillet. It felt and tasted distinctly… fuchsia. That is odd… Is fuchsia a taste?
"Shit man," Reno said, finally paying attention. "What are you doing Tseng?"
"Seems like he's not really focused enough to feel the pain now…" Rude pointed out.
Now I watched as the eyes of the trio moved to my plate.
"SHIT!" Reno swore. "That stuff is poisonous to people without mako in their bloodstream Tseng!"
"Oh!" the slightly drunk Wutain said. "THAT was what it was for. I forgot. I usually remember it only by that distinctive bitter yet addicting taste…"
Rude stood and moved to pick me up.
"Tseng, this it totally your fault, again!" Reno shouted.
"How so Reno?"
"First you get him drunk when he's mourning and then break his wrist because he's so drunk that he feels you up. Then you take him out, give him a fish that is deadly to those without mako…"
"And is also WONDERFULLY suppresses pain and makes me fell all warm deep down inside," I giggled.
"And that gets him high for some reason I can't figure out, and then you break his other wrist because the aphrodisiacal properties of said poisonous and obviously druggy friendly fish gets him to feel you up again! Man, you are SO not taking him to the hospital this time!"
Hospital? Aw man, I didn't wanna go there again. "Oo… can I get a cast to match this one?" I asked, waving my plastered arm around and almost hitting Rude in the head.
Reno smacked his forehead and gave a defeated sigh before escorting me and Rude to the waiting ambulance.
"At this rate we're going to have to hire one permanently for him!"