Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ Never Say Never ❯ He cleans up well ( Chapter 5 )

The lights were harsh and bright inside, and I winced. I hated artificial light, but it wasn't like there was really any other option. Even without that fucking plate over our heads, the sky was still a disgusting murky haze that blocked out the sun. I felt kind of like a one-man freak show being lead through a parade; everyone around me was so neat and polished. The building was lightly air conditioned, washing over the skin that wasn't covered by the jacket around me. I crossed my arms self-consciously and followed...I guess you could call him my boss?

 

When we reached the elevator, he pressed the `up' button. I just stood awkwardly and stared at my surroundings, still in a bit of a shock. Damn...Nothin' like seeing what you've been missing to make you realize how lowly you really are. With a quiet chime, the doors opened to reveal the pretty red carpet and steel walls contained within. I wanted to vomit.

 

My body felt like it was on autopilot when I followed him in. I wondered if any of these people in here with their plastic smiles and ironed clothing had experienced a day of strife in their lives. Insane as it sounded, I wanted to run like hell and go back to my world of filth and cruelty. It was normal there. My thoughts were cut short, however, as he turned to me, and I couldn't hold back the contemptuous glare that I threw him.

 

“I'm taking you to get cleaned up right now. You're in appalling condition and unfit to see the Vice President, who will be your main employer. From there, you will be presented with your first weapon and be asked to choose one of your liking as well, with which you will be trained appropriately. You will receive neither of these until we have been assured of your mental stability as well as your loyalty to Shinra Corporation. Afterward, I'll be taking you to meet Vice President Rufus, and when dismissed, we will find you an apartment. You will receive a phone from the company that you must keep on you at all times, as well as two personal identification tags, one real, and one fake. Any questions?”

 

My head was reeling with the sudden onslaught of information, and had I been able to think of a damn question in the first place, I probably wouldn't have asked it anyway. “No.”

 

He nodded and we waited in silence for the elevator to come to a stop, and when the doors opened, we exited into what appeared to be some sort of locker room. It was predictably spotless and smelled of an air freshener, and once more I found my skin crawling. Had I known that I'd have been put into such a disgustingly happy place, I'd have told him to go to hell. Oh well. He walked across the room to an inconspicuous door, and after pulling a set of small keys out of his pocket, unlocked it and entered. I followed, genuinely curious, and stopped as he motioned me toward a large dresser.

 

“You wouldn't happen to know how tall you are, would you?” He didn't even look like he was paying attention to me, and I wondered if he really expected me to answer. Regardless, I shook my head.

 

“Nope.”

 

He nodded faintly and stepped up to me, and I found that he was, surprisingly, an inch or two shorter than I was. I hadn't really noticed before since he was so damned intimidating at first, but indeed I found myself looking down the slightest bit. When a hint of annoyance flashed through his eyes, I smirked, and he turned away sharply. “Until we can have a uniform properly tailored for you, you'll be wearing standard-issue. The pants may be a bit short, but you should find the jacket to be properly sized.” He opened a drawer toward the middle on the top row, pulled out a folded black article of clothing, and set it on the dresser-top. He then shut the drawer and narrowed his eyes a bit, then removed a similar piece of clothing from another drawer on the far right of the dresser, then quietly slid the compartment shut and turned to me. “Strip.”

 

I complied automatically, my body having been trained to obey the command. I found it saddening how simple it was for me to do so, as after quickly removing my pants, I slid his jacket from my shoulders and was then completely nude. Just like that.

 

I also caught the admiration in his gaze when he gave me a once-over.

 

...What did this guy want from me?

 

He took the clothing he had removed second and shook them from their folded state, revealing a pair of creased black pants. They were handed to me and I took them, even though I really didn't want to. They smelled like mothballs and made me wanna sneeze. I put them on.

 

My now-employer looked at me appreciatively, though he frowned when his gaze fell upon my feet. The pants did indeed fall a few inches short of ideal length, but I didn't really care. They were loose in the waist as well, and would sit quite low on my hips, which would probably take care of the length. I wanted them off. He turned to hand me my jacket next, but paused as if trying to remember something. What a guy like him could possibly forget, I don't know, but when he pulled a white collared shirt from the ever-convenient dresser, I felt kind of stupid for forgetting as well, even though it wasn't even my job to remember. He handed it to me, and I nearly groaned.

 

“That should fit you. If not, I'll give you a different one.” He stood and gave me a passive, patient look, and I couldn't help but wonder what he was really thinking. The prostitute in me urged me to look at his crotch to search out a bulge, but I resisted and put the shirt on, buttoning four buttons in the middle and leaving the cuffs undone. Afterward, I put my hands on my hips and cocked a brow at him.

 

He rose his eyebrow right back at me. Tension filled the air, and I suddenly wondered why on Earth I was being so retarded. For God's sake, I was getting dressed. But, if he wanted to play the flirting game, I was the running champ. I waited for him to say something.

 

It took a few minutes, but he finally broke. “Aren't you going to finish putting your shirt on? Or do you need help?” His voice held contained annoyance, but I had to take the bait.

 

“Dunno. That an offer?”

 

He scowled softly, then, and reminded me of a panther. I wondered briefly if I had said the wrong thing, but then his lips curled into a satisfied smirk, and I knew then that I had just gotten myself knee-deep into some bad shit. Hell if I didn't like it, though. He stepped forward and stopped after he was thoroughly invading my personal space, and I was glad I didn't have a bubble problem. “Did it sound like one?” His voice was soft and deep, and somehow I knew he didn't do this for everybody.

 

I narrowed my eyes, taking note of the very, very small distance between our lips. I could feel his breath hitting my face gently in warm puffs, and I ached to reach out and bury my hands in his hair and kiss him until he bruised. Instead, I stood my ground and matched the tone of his voice the best I could, though years of living sub-plate had driven it to have a scratchy, huskier sound. “Sure did.”

 

His eyes shined dangerously for a moment, and the light hit them just right so that I could see the mahogany accents in the nearly black irises. He raised his hands and ran his fingertips up my stomach and over my chest to a button I had neglected to secure, and a slight shiver ran throughout my body at the strange sensation. His hands were cool to my hot, and though I kept my own hands at my sides, my fingers twitched. God, I wanted to bang him.

 

He moved lazily to the next button and kept his gaze locked onto mine, and as I glanced down to stare at his lips, I licked my own. He finished and then buttoned the next button up, which was the one that would secure the collar tightly around my neck. Next thing I knew, a dainty-looking finger hooked itself into the pressed fabric and jerked, and my mouth met his roughly in a surprise kiss.

 

I grunted lightly in shock, but the tension left my body (for the most part, as this guy was getting me all hot and bothered) as he removed the finger and smoothed his palms down the front of my chest. It felt better than I could have thought, and I reached up to sink my fingers into his hair as he caught the next button in its fabric cage. His hair was soft and straight against the calluses on my hands, and the combination between that and what he was doing to my mouth was...wow. I moaned lightly and licked at his bottom lip, and as he finished the last button and began to tuck the shirt into my pants, he brushed my cock with the backs of his fingers. Whether it was intentional or not, I couldn't really tell (or care), but it caused me to buck against his hand. This brought a smirk to his face as he pulled away, and as a result of my assault on his hair, his bangs (he had bangs?) fell into his eyes and made him look like an entirely different person.

 

I swear, if my balls weren't blue for the next couple weeks, I'd be genuinely amazed.

 

There was silence in the room as we admired each other. I said the only thing I could think of after his `assistance'. “Thank you, sir.”

 

“You're welcome, Reno.”

 

As he searched diligently for what I assumed was going to be a tie, I shifted from foot to foot out of sheer habit. I could never stand still for very long, and it seemed to eventually agitate everybody I was around long enough to see it. I was glad that his back was to me momentarily. He returned his attention to me, then, and in his hands hung a satin black tie. It was fairly long, and as he handed it to me, I frowned deeply in a bit of distress.

 

Now I really did need help.

 

He seemed to know it, too, the bastard, and I didn't see any volunteers. “I actually do need help, now, sir.” I glared slightly, angry that I had to stoop to this for him. “I never did learn how to tie a tie, you know.”

 

“Well, I suppose that's too bad for you, isn't it?”

 

I stuffed the urge to sputter angrily and instead intensified my glare. I knew he was testing me; it wasn't subtle. But damn... I wanted to smack him and ride him at the same time. The thought sent electric to my groin. “If I can't tie it, I can't wear it.”

 

“Sure you can.” He snatched the silky fabric from my hands and made a loop in the narrow end, swiftly manipulating the black material into a perfect knot. Then, holding the loop open, he slipped the tie over my head, stuffed the loop under my collar, and tightened the knot to uncomfortable snugness. “See? You're wearing it.”

 

I choked lightly and glared. He smirked devilishly before he turned and bent at the knees, pulling at one of the very long, large drawers at the bottom of the dresser. Inside were boxes upon boxes of new shoes with their sizes, colors, and specific gender written on the tops of them. He paused for a short moment and then stood, still bent at the waist, to remove his shoe. It was handed to me reluctantly, and I was instructed to compare it to my own foot.

 

Lifting my foot to the footwear, I placed the sole of the shoe against the bottom of my foot, hopping slightly to keep my balance. He cocked his head once more (must be a habit when he thinks) and considered me, and as he did so I grimaced at the feel of dust and grit against my skin. My foot was a tiny bit bigger than the shoe, and I looked up at him expectantly. “It's a little small.”

 

He nodded shortly and removed a box from the array. I didn't bother to look at the size; damn things probably wouldn't fit anyway. I looked down at my feet and grimaced once more, noting that you could see how ugly they were much more effectively when they were clean. There was dirt stuck under the nails and corns on a few of my toes, and I was so flat-footed that I cramped up if my toes were curled for too long. He didn't say anything, though, and just threw the box to me, and I almost blinked at the sight of my forearms encased in the thick black fabric of my new blazer.

 

If he even touches my hair...

 

I must have zoned out momentarily because the next thing I saw were his fingers snapping in front of my face. I muttered an apology, but didn't really mean it. I never truly meant it when I said I was sorry, mostly because I usually wasn't. I took the shoes out of the box, and my nose wrinkled slightly at the smell of brand new leather. I quickly removed the crumpled paper within them and slipped the shoe on, genuinely surprised at how comfortable it was. Maybe it was just because I never had a real pair of shoes before. “Fits fine.”

 

“Excellent. Put the other on quickly and we can go.”

 

Go where, I couldn't remember. My head was reeling from all of this, and I was starting to get a decent headache from it all. I slipped the other shoe on and tied both of them, then stood, fully dressed in my new uniform. He had put his jacket on and was holding my sweatpants out to me like they would bite him lest he come into too much contact with them, and I snatched them from him. They were just pants... Damned bastard and his stupid clean world and polished shoes. I rolled the pants into a tiny bundle and glared at him.

 

He gave me a thorough assessment, and I nearly winced when his gaze fell upon my hair. I knew it. If he even came close to implying that I had to cut my ponytai—

 

“Do you spike your hair?”

 

...”Err, what?”

 

“Your hair.” He reached out and ran his fingers through my bangs, and only then did I realize how fluffy and wavy it was from my shower. Normally, it was spiked a bit in the front, but that was just from the build-up of grime in it. I watched as his eyes trailed back to the hair between his fingers. “Do you spike it?”

 

“You know, you ask a lot of stupid questions for a guy who seems so smart. Where the hell would I get my hands on anything other than mud to spike my hair with?” His eyes narrowed and he fisted my hair tightly, causing me to grimace and bite my tongue. Way to lose control. “Sorry, sir.”

 

He loosened his grip and I exhaled again, wondering where he was going with this. “Would you like to? It would look better that way.”

 

“Is everything you big wigs do all about how you look?”

 

“Sorry to cramp your style, street whore, but if you are unacceptable in your appearance, you are unacceptable in your complete presentation of self.”

 

He had lost me somewhere around the insult, and we glared at each other heatedly before he let go of me entirely and turned to a simple cupboard that I had failed to notice on the back wall of the room. He motioned me over his shoulder, signifying that he would like me to go to him, and as I approached his back, he opened one of the doors to reveal a few toiletry items. There were a couple brushes, some combs, a few pairs of scissors, a razor... Behind them were some products in various bottles, including shaving cream, aftershave, some hair spray, mousse, and gel. I stared in surprise, and as he stepped aside, I noticed that the opened door had a mirror hanging on the inside.

 

He nodded toward the products and looked at me expectantly. “You might like the results.”

 

This guy must be intentionally picking every single thing that I suck at to make me do. “I...don't really know how to do that, either, sir.”

 

He sighed impatiently and I almost swore. What did he expect? All I knew how to do was drink, swear, and fuck. Perhaps defend myself. He stepped behind me and reached for the brush, then slid the ponytail holder out of my hair. “Watch closely,” he murmured to me, and I watched his reflection in the mirror.

 

Starting at the ends of my hair, he began to detangle gently with the brush. It made my scalp tingle and I closed my eyes, reveling in the feel. No one had ever brushed my hair for me before, and it was kind of putting me to sleep. Pretty soon, he was at the top of my head, brushing my bangs back away from my face, and I shivered at the feel. When the brushing no longer continued, I opened my eyes halfway and stared at him in the mirror. He grabbed a straight razor off the shelf, then, and I felt my eyes widen in shock. “You're not going to—“

 

“Relax, Reno.”

 

“Relax, my ass! You just took me fresh off the streets and now you expect me to stay calm when you pull a fucking razor on me? Not when I got my scars the same—“ I cut myself off, the words thick in my throat. I narrowed my eyes slightly at his curious look, highly irritated with myself for almost disclosing that bit of information. That was something I didn't even wanna remember myself, let alone let anyone else know about. I grit my teeth and closed my eyes, reminding myself that if he intended to kill me, he'd had plenty of chances already. “Whatever.”

 

I felt some tugging on my bangs, then, and refused to open my eyes and see the cold steel razor so close to my face. Chills ran down my spine at the memory of the pain, and I was utterly relieved when I heard it being set down again. A gentle, warm pressure appeared at my cheek, and when I opened my eyes out of curiosity, I was met with the sight of my new boss with his nose buried against my temple. His fingers were massaging my neck and shoulders, and though it did feel very, very good, I couldn't help but squirm in discomfort. It was going to take a long time to get used to reserved intimacy.

 

He opened his eyes after a moment and caught my gaze in the mirror. My heart was beating so hard I bet he could feel it from behind me, but luckily I had practiced my poker face for years and met his with cool confidence. At least that's what I hoped it looked like. To be honest, I felt like an idiot. His arm reached past me again and I watched idly as he grabbed the gel and squirted some into his palm. He then rubbed his hands together and played with my bangs a bit, bringing them away from my head and making them more pronounced. A bit of fiddling around and frustrated tugs took place and when he finally pulled away, I cocked my head at my reflection.

 

He smirked in satisfaction. I did look pretty good.

 

As he replaced the bottle of gel and removed a spray bottle of water, I took the worn black elastic from its temporary home on the shelf and tied the rest of my hair back with it. He sprayed his hands and wiped them off on paper towels that had come from somewhere... I wasn't paying attention to him anymore.

 

My reflection gazed back at me with beautiful green eyes that I didn't know I had. My hair was messy but neat at the same time and complemented a face that was marred with two hideous scars. My mother, before she had been killed, had told me that every girl liked a man in a suit, and as I swallowed against the cotton in my mouth, my throat pressed against the neat white collar around it. I was undeniably handsome, that much was obvious. But if that was true, then why was I so unhappy?

 

My thoughts were cut short as the man behind me clasped a hand against my shoulder, signifying that it was time to leave. Clutching my sweatpants tightly, as they were now the only connection I had to everything I'd ever lived for, I took a deep breath and followed him.

 

As my new shoes squeaked angrily against my movements, I bit my lip. Welcome to the world, Reno.

 

 

 

A/n: Thank you guys so, so much for your reviews. Couple nitpicky things, I'm kind of unsure as to whether Tseng is out of character here, because although he is very distant and cold, he's a stickler for detail and doesn't like to do something half-assed if it's worth doing. So I figure while he's in the privacy of a small room and assured that he could eliminate Reno should any problems arise, he would take the time to clean Reno up properly. Also, I know that the Turk uniforms are navy colored... I just like black better. Call it a bit of poetic license, if you will. ^_^