40 Stories: T. 17, Exhausted
Title: N/A
Theme/ Lyric: T. 17 - Exhausted
Rating: PG
Genre: Fluff
Pairings: Vincent/Reno
Wairnings: Yaoi, a tiny bit of Shelke bashing if you tilt your head to the left and squint.
T.17 - Exhausted
Over the past few months of their relationship, Reno had never known Vincent to be tired. It was usually the red head who came home dog tired, crawling into bed on auto-pilot, and falling asleep quickly as Vincent lay next to him, acting as a warm magnet for the younger man. Then Deepground happened. Over the several weeks of the incident, while Vincent had been fighting against the Deepground soldiers on the front lines, Reno had been carefully guarding Rufus Shinra from attack with the other Turks; always worried that word would be sent to him of Vincent’s demise. Two weeks after the event was over, there was still no word of Vincent’s death or survival. AVALANCE was divided right down the middle over the issue. No one wanted to say anything for certain until concrete evidence came to light.
The red head stepped into the Seventh Heaven once again. Tifa looked up at the sound of the bell that alerted every customer’s appearance. Seeing the moping Turk once again, she could only shake her head, knowing exactly what his question would be.
“Sorry, Reno, still no word,” she said. Reno let out a defeated sigh, slumping down at the bar with his head on his arms. “Shelke keeps looking. She thinks she’ll be the one to find him.” Reno growled at the mention of the ex-tsviet’s name. Tensions between the two were quite obvious from the moment they had met. Reno strongly felt as through she was trying to steal Vincent from him, fueled mainly by the fact it had been extremely difficult for the red-head to win the stoic gunman over.
“If that little mini-bit thinks she can steal Vincent from me, she’s got another thing coming, yo. You don’t take what’s mine without a fight, Lucrecia’s memories or not,” Reno stated. Tifa shook her head, placing a bottle of the Turk’s favorite alcohol on the counter. It was Reno’s turn to shake his head. “Believe it or not, Tifa, I’m not in the mood.” Reno then stood and left the bar, his feet wearily taking him towards home.
Entering into the apartment he shared with Vincent, Reno casually tossed his keys into their dish on a table by the door and removed his suit jacket, tossing it over the back of the couch. He failed to notice the red cape draped in the same manner in his cloud of misery. Entering into the bedroom, he found a sight he never, in his wildest dreams, ever thought he’d see: a dog tired, worn-out Vincent Valentine collapsed on their bed. Claw and boots removed, head hidden beneath an arm, and blissfully unaware of the other man’s presence. Reno had to employ every ounce of self-control not to cry out in joy or bounce onto the bed and awaken his exhausted lover. He calmly and quietly crawled into bed next to his lover, embracing him as he had been embraced many times before and breathing in the gunman’s familiar scent.
“Welcome home,” he whispered.
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Theme/ Lyric: T. 17 - Exhausted
Rating: PG
Genre: Fluff
Pairings: Vincent/Reno
Wairnings: Yaoi, a tiny bit of Shelke bashing if you tilt your head to the left and squint.
T.17 - Exhausted
Over the past few months of their relationship, Reno had never known Vincent to be tired. It was usually the red head who came home dog tired, crawling into bed on auto-pilot, and falling asleep quickly as Vincent lay next to him, acting as a warm magnet for the younger man. Then Deepground happened. Over the several weeks of the incident, while Vincent had been fighting against the Deepground soldiers on the front lines, Reno had been carefully guarding Rufus Shinra from attack with the other Turks; always worried that word would be sent to him of Vincent’s demise. Two weeks after the event was over, there was still no word of Vincent’s death or survival. AVALANCE was divided right down the middle over the issue. No one wanted to say anything for certain until concrete evidence came to light.
The red head stepped into the Seventh Heaven once again. Tifa looked up at the sound of the bell that alerted every customer’s appearance. Seeing the moping Turk once again, she could only shake her head, knowing exactly what his question would be.
“Sorry, Reno, still no word,” she said. Reno let out a defeated sigh, slumping down at the bar with his head on his arms. “Shelke keeps looking. She thinks she’ll be the one to find him.” Reno growled at the mention of the ex-tsviet’s name. Tensions between the two were quite obvious from the moment they had met. Reno strongly felt as through she was trying to steal Vincent from him, fueled mainly by the fact it had been extremely difficult for the red-head to win the stoic gunman over.
“If that little mini-bit thinks she can steal Vincent from me, she’s got another thing coming, yo. You don’t take what’s mine without a fight, Lucrecia’s memories or not,” Reno stated. Tifa shook her head, placing a bottle of the Turk’s favorite alcohol on the counter. It was Reno’s turn to shake his head. “Believe it or not, Tifa, I’m not in the mood.” Reno then stood and left the bar, his feet wearily taking him towards home.
Entering into the apartment he shared with Vincent, Reno casually tossed his keys into their dish on a table by the door and removed his suit jacket, tossing it over the back of the couch. He failed to notice the red cape draped in the same manner in his cloud of misery. Entering into the bedroom, he found a sight he never, in his wildest dreams, ever thought he’d see: a dog tired, worn-out Vincent Valentine collapsed on their bed. Claw and boots removed, head hidden beneath an arm, and blissfully unaware of the other man’s presence. Reno had to employ every ounce of self-control not to cry out in joy or bounce onto the bed and awaken his exhausted lover. He calmly and quietly crawled into bed next to his lover, embracing him as he had been embraced many times before and breathing in the gunman’s familiar scent.
“Welcome home,” he whispered.
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