Final Fantasy Seven: Tseng/Rude
Title: Prospects
Author: Forgottenlover
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Word count: 369
Summary: Tseng wasn't immune to curiosity.
The first time Rude had gotten sidetracked, he had ignored it. The second time, he had discretely followed the man to try and determine what had such importance as to lure the man off when he was in the middle of doing something for the company. That time, he still said nothing, but kept a keen eye on the man after, carefully working through what pattern was between the visits.
The third visit confirmed the span of time between, and the fourth he interceded. Just because he had kept quiet thus far didn't mean that he intended to perpetually. He had just wanted to… confirm some things first.
The man didn't show his surprise at seeing him, but he hadn't expected him to. The other man was a Turk as well, and it was, unfortunately, entirely possible he'd been spotted before. It rose some interesting questions however as to why the man still was apparently planning to do as he was. "You shouldn't be doing these things on company time."
There was a flash of teeth, the man's rare smile, then he tilted his head, looking at him over his sunglasses. "Going to report me?"
"No." There was a long moment as they studied each other, and then the longhaired man looked the direction that the other Turk had been headed. "There are cleaner places."
"Maybe. But more talented?"
Dark eyes met dark eyes, and the lighter skinned of the two let a small, amused smirk touch his lips, though only briefly. "Yes, that too."
"Yeah?"
"Of course."
"How would I get one?"
"You ask, of course." Looking over his shoulder as he turned from the other, he shook his head. "How else."
"That mean you plan to help me Tseng?"
The words prompted a noncommittal hum, and then the man started to walk away. "Perhaps, but not on company time."
Rude didn't reply, but he knew he would see the man again later in the evening. That meant, of course, that he needed to have his tattoo supplies ready.
He hadn't lied after all, there were cleaner, more talented artists than the one the man had been visiting.
He just hadn't bothered to mention that he meant himself.
Author: Forgottenlover
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Word count: 369
Summary: Tseng wasn't immune to curiosity.
The first time Rude had gotten sidetracked, he had ignored it. The second time, he had discretely followed the man to try and determine what had such importance as to lure the man off when he was in the middle of doing something for the company. That time, he still said nothing, but kept a keen eye on the man after, carefully working through what pattern was between the visits.
The third visit confirmed the span of time between, and the fourth he interceded. Just because he had kept quiet thus far didn't mean that he intended to perpetually. He had just wanted to… confirm some things first.
The man didn't show his surprise at seeing him, but he hadn't expected him to. The other man was a Turk as well, and it was, unfortunately, entirely possible he'd been spotted before. It rose some interesting questions however as to why the man still was apparently planning to do as he was. "You shouldn't be doing these things on company time."
There was a flash of teeth, the man's rare smile, then he tilted his head, looking at him over his sunglasses. "Going to report me?"
"No." There was a long moment as they studied each other, and then the longhaired man looked the direction that the other Turk had been headed. "There are cleaner places."
"Maybe. But more talented?"
Dark eyes met dark eyes, and the lighter skinned of the two let a small, amused smirk touch his lips, though only briefly. "Yes, that too."
"Yeah?"
"Of course."
"How would I get one?"
"You ask, of course." Looking over his shoulder as he turned from the other, he shook his head. "How else."
"That mean you plan to help me Tseng?"
The words prompted a noncommittal hum, and then the man started to walk away. "Perhaps, but not on company time."
Rude didn't reply, but he knew he would see the man again later in the evening. That meant, of course, that he needed to have his tattoo supplies ready.
He hadn't lied after all, there were cleaner, more talented artists than the one the man had been visiting.
He just hadn't bothered to mention that he meant himself.