rapacityinblue (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
rapacityinblue) wrote2012-01-01 05:43 pm
rapacityinblue) wrote2012-01-01 05:43 pm
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Title: Taking Care of Business
Fandom: Final Fantasy VII “Compilation” as it's called. Post DOC
Spoilers: Not so much, no
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Reeve/Vincent
Summary:Vincent picks up another one of Reeve's messes.
Warnings: Violence
Word Count: 380
Note: Written for30_wounds, prompt #17, “I Fell Down Some Stairs.”
Reeve is a terrible liar. He knows this, and so he's usually scrupulously honest. It just doesn't make sense not to be. He gets caught up in his words and trips over contradictions and starts blushing until anyone and everyone knows he's lying.
Vincent, by contrast, is an excellent liar, usually because he doesn't say anything at all. Vincent just raises an eyebrow and lets you think whatever you want. It's not intentional, but it is effective. He always gets away with it. Always.
So Reeve decides maybe this once it's worth trying it Vincent's way. Even though he's gotten better, there are still people he'll never be able to fool. But it doesn't work. As soon as he's in the door, Vincent knows.
Suddenly, Reeve is entirely too aware of his hair out of place and the wine on his breath and Rufus's cologne still hanging heavy in the air. He feels the heat spreading up his neck and into his cheeks under Vincent's steady stare, so he keeps his head down as he pushes through the living room and takes the stairs to their loft two at a time.
He's there three days later when Vincent shoves through the bedroom, and it's just a flash but it's easy enough for Reeve to catch a glimpse of purple and blue and stark red on the man's pale face. He waits exactly three minutes sitting on the bed before he folds up his laptop and follows Vincent into the antechamber beyond, following the cloying scent of lavender and roses.
His first concern is to look Vincent over for bullet wounds, because he doesn't see how these two men could get into a fight without somebody drawing a gun, but miraculously, the worst damage is a black eye and a split lip colluding to swell the entire right side of his face. There's another thin cut over his opposite eye, but it's already clotting on its own.
He expects the gunman to remain silent on the matter, but to his surprise Vincent speaks even before he can ask the question. “I took care of the problem,” is all he says, before reverting to his characteristic silence.
It occurs to Reeve that they also have very different methods of dealing with conflict.
Fandom: Final Fantasy VII “Compilation” as it's called. Post DOC
Spoilers: Not so much, no
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Reeve/Vincent
Summary:Vincent picks up another one of Reeve's messes.
Warnings: Violence
Word Count: 380
Note: Written for
30_wounds, prompt #17, “I Fell Down Some Stairs.”Reeve is a terrible liar. He knows this, and so he's usually scrupulously honest. It just doesn't make sense not to be. He gets caught up in his words and trips over contradictions and starts blushing until anyone and everyone knows he's lying.
Vincent, by contrast, is an excellent liar, usually because he doesn't say anything at all. Vincent just raises an eyebrow and lets you think whatever you want. It's not intentional, but it is effective. He always gets away with it. Always.
So Reeve decides maybe this once it's worth trying it Vincent's way. Even though he's gotten better, there are still people he'll never be able to fool. But it doesn't work. As soon as he's in the door, Vincent knows.
Suddenly, Reeve is entirely too aware of his hair out of place and the wine on his breath and Rufus's cologne still hanging heavy in the air. He feels the heat spreading up his neck and into his cheeks under Vincent's steady stare, so he keeps his head down as he pushes through the living room and takes the stairs to their loft two at a time.
He's there three days later when Vincent shoves through the bedroom, and it's just a flash but it's easy enough for Reeve to catch a glimpse of purple and blue and stark red on the man's pale face. He waits exactly three minutes sitting on the bed before he folds up his laptop and follows Vincent into the antechamber beyond, following the cloying scent of lavender and roses.
His first concern is to look Vincent over for bullet wounds, because he doesn't see how these two men could get into a fight without somebody drawing a gun, but miraculously, the worst damage is a black eye and a split lip colluding to swell the entire right side of his face. There's another thin cut over his opposite eye, but it's already clotting on its own.
He expects the gunman to remain silent on the matter, but to his surprise Vincent speaks even before he can ask the question. “I took care of the problem,” is all he says, before reverting to his characteristic silence.
It occurs to Reeve that they also have very different methods of dealing with conflict.