. . .Well, not really twelve weeks. In actuality, it's September 29th and I started in July. What can I say? I'm an early riser. Large note post-story.
Edit: And here I am, a few states away, to deliver this to you. Enjoy. Or not. Whatever.
The Turks Christmas Special : And a Glass of Brandy in a Turk's Hand
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The paramedics came and diagnosed Tim the Christmas Pimp as "dead as a doornail," which was the way one of them actually put it. They took him away and cleaned up the mess under the watchful eyes of Rude, Scarlet, Reeve, Reno, and Elena. When the two women had run out holding hands, Reno pointed excitedly at their clasp and yelled "AHA!" so loudly that one of the medics gave him a look straight from Hell.
Rude seemed pretty indifferent to the matter, but Reeve had known all along.
In an hour or two the party came to a halt and everyone, after doing their best to restore the ballroom to its usual shine before the janitors had to do it, went back to their respectable places of business none the wiser about the killer that had been stabbed with a writing utensil right outside of their ball.
Reeve just shrugged and quietly said, "It's really quite better that way."
The paramedics came to idolize him for being the rational one in the bunch.
After almost everyone had gone, it was Scarlet and Reno again, sitting on folding chairs at the buffet and putting the extra wine to a good use. "So," said the Turk, "you and Laney? Was that a serious thing?"
"Nah," she laughed, popping a cracker into her mouth and washing it down. "We've been making ourselves an image with the dates and all, but we were really just trying to see how the suits would react and if the company would punish it. She's got a boyfriend that works at some fast-food joint she went to last month. Didn't she ever introduce him to you?" Her hair had come out of its tie of her own free will some time ago.
Reno smiled. "I left Laney's love life when she left my mind, y'know? Elena, Winter Day, dating. . .last year I woulda shot somebody over this, but I'm healed. I proposed, remember?"
"Proposed my ass," she spluttered. "You had a ring sent to her apartment by the floral guy who owns the shop with the jeweler! No message except "From Reno" on the box. That's not a proposal, that's a pansy-ass cop-out. You've gotta do it in person, with feeling."
He shrugged. "Wouldn't know how if I felt like it now. If they taught dating in college, there wouldn't be so many drop outs. Nobody tells you the proposal voice, the right way to ask if they wanna come in after the date, the way to hold their hand without looking like a priss. My dating skills are shit, but I can pick up a drunk like nobody's business."
"So what am I?"
"Mm," he hummed. "Ever-present fuck buddy?"
They laughed over that one, but Scarlet insisted on something before she left to go check on her cat. She took a swig of wine and stood up, only slightly tipsy. In the world of ShinRa, someone had to be able to hold their alcohol. One needed much of it to survive the company, and if they couldn't drink well, they'd be a shell full of cookie dough by week two. It was just that stressful. She jerked a finger and Reno stood up as she began humming.
The situation caught him rather quickly. "Scarlet, I know how to dance," he explained as she lifted her hands and began moving backward. "They teach you dancing in SOLDIER for the inaugural ball, remember?" She jerked her hands and hummed louder, that mock anger behind her eyes.
He gave in and submitted. Both of them laughed idiotically as they swept about the empty ballroom, stepping on dropped chips, slipping twice on spilled alcohol and catching themselves both times, falling back into rhythm. More than once his hands ventured to places no traditional man would, but she slapped them away with a laugh and said, "Nu-uh. Remember, etiquette is the key factor in achieving a date."
They went on with this for about ten minutes, never missing a step unless they were both trying to do the same one. When the song ended -- or, rather, when Scarlet was too out of breath to think up another bar -- he dipped her like the gentleman he would never even attempt to be.
Something happened then that they'd never quite felt before. Hands drawn up between each other with another of Reno's at the small of his partner's back, a sudden shock ran through them, and they liked it. Suddenly they weren't Reno and Scarlet; they were the bride and groom taking the first dance at their reception, looking into each other's eyes in the dip with an expression that said, "Never let me go."
"Marry me," she whispered.
Reno wasn't confused; he took it in stride and wondered briefly if she was serious, but he wasn't genuinely confused about it. Something transpired in that second in silence, he looking smugly handsome and she looking awed and beautiful, that they knew was real. They knew they could do this for the rest of their lives and it would be just as it was right now, just congregated into one house during the days as well. "So," he murmured, "does that mean I don't need any more lessons?"
She never answered that question, just repeated, "Marry me."
He let her up, but his hand didn't leave hers. "Alright, so maybe my dating skills aren't absolutely terrible." He didn't want to reply to her statement. If he said yes and she wasn't serious, she would make a fool of him at the office. If he said no and she was serious, she might be crushed. But if he said yes and she was serious. . .what was he afraid of? He knew it would work. If he said no and she wasn't serious, it would all be fine.
There were just too many opportunities for failure.
She smiled. "I think we're both a bit drunk, Reno." That would leave him guessing at her meaning the whole time, he decided as they went around shutting the lights off. Outside, she kissed him on the cheek and went to her car, across the lot from his.
Reno himself sat on the curb for maybe twenty minutes, smoking and trying to figure out what was going on. Yuffie had disappeared from his mind, and he'd decided now that he just wouldn't be able to handle a real, stay-at-home relationship with her. He hated ties to anything stationary, and he needed to be a Turk, dammit. He needed to pillage and kidnap for the greater good in the name of Emerson Reeve or his life was just. . .it just didn't matter.
He looked at the sky for a while, pondered the existence of any kind of god, and then PHS out his phone and dialed. After three rings, a surprised voice picked up. "Reno?" She'd gotten home already; that was the only place she had a caller ID of any sort. And he could hear her cat, Simon, yowling in the background. "Isn't it dangerous to drive around Midgar on a phone, especially in your car?"
Second time's a charm, said the side of his brain that. . .well, he didn't know which side had told him. They both seemed to be agreeing for once, despite getting the cliché wrong. Two years in a row, this one surely had to work. He thought about that. Then he thought again. Then he decided that this was the only time he was going to get to do it.
". . .Hey, Scarlet. Marry me?"
There was an earth-ending pause, and then a soul-shattering intake of breath. He didn't even know if he wanted this; but he knew it would work and he knew they would be as close to happy as they could be working as they did. "Holy, Reno, I hope you're not allergic to cats."
He smirked. Somewhere, something wasn't as full of Schmidt as he'd thought.
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-Fin.
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Author's Note: OH MY GOD!!! HOW COULD YOU HAVE HIM JUST UP AND LEAVE YUFFIE LIKE THAT?!! THAT'S SO FUCKING IMMORAL!!! THAT IS SO TOTALLY OUT OF CHARACTER AND I HATE YOU FOR IT!!! Have I covered the range of reactions short of death threats? I would list those, but I know how creative my friends are and Drakon alone could think up a thousand ways I couldn't.
This is my story. I know that's a cop-out, but I'd also like to say. . .Reno and Scarlet were given little to no personalities, and though we know her dialogue, no one goes in depth on Yuffie's reactions to letdown. Therefore, it is perfectly plausible to say that this is fine by all of them, including our little ninja; maybe she, secretly, did this for the money? Is there any proof otherwise? No, and that is how I rest my case. I am either following character or making up my own character personalities, and I like the way it turned out. So, in the great words of TOOL and A Perfect Circle frontman Maynard James Keenan: "You can point that fuckin' finger up your ass."
A long list of well-earned thank yous to the people who have made this year not only bearable but breathtakingly unforgettable. I've seen my highs, my lows, my goods, my bads, my good deeds, and my sins all in these past twelve months, and these people've been there through it all, even if some didn't know it as much as others. And so, this story is fully dedicated, in whole, to the following people that make me truly love what I do:
Kathy, Drakon, E-Mommy, Pip, Nighty, Rich, Tnarg, Garfunkel, Jess, J, The Highwaywoman, Athena, Sabe, Sol, Tio, Clara, Tini, DA, Heather Cat, magnum, Lindz, Mem, Shad, and everyone I've inspired/touched/creeped the hell out of ( sorry, Erik ) over the past three years.
So that's it. Probably the last you'll see of Reno Spiegel in the year 2004, but the 2005 generation should expect that I'm still gonna be around to piss you off with my twist endings and the like. As my first chapter story in a long while, this just means so much so me that I still have it in me to finish it. Look, Ma! Skill!