insusurro | NO DATE ONLY DINNER (ft the junon scrubs)

NO DATE ONLY DINNER (ft the junon scrubs)

_{[The days following the gala had been relatively uneventful, save for the morning after. There was a necessary visit to the slums - Sector 5 to be exact - and it had gone off without any major hitches. Was it a little awkward? Sure. It had been the first time Roche had gone searching for flowers in Midgar, and the first time he'd actually bought any for something. For anyone. He doesn't count the times he'd been involved with flowers in Junon. Those moments never involved being crouched over a bed of flowers being "relentlessly" teased by the very florist he'd been sent to, prompting Roche to actually look sheepish. Especially after he'd described them and the realization kicked in as to what they were.

Did Reno realize that they were the same ones that were part of the Gnole's motif?

It'd only become worse when she'd started telling him about the best colors to pick, and the meanings behind them.

Turning up Friday afternoon to pick them up had been even worse, and only cemented the fact that this girl - as lovely and as sweet as she is - was a menace. And right up his alley once the overall mortification passed. Yeah, Reno absolutely knew what he was doing when he sent Roche to her. (Note to self: payback.)

Fortunately the rest of the day was going by smoothly, and by the time eight o'clock rolls around? He's ready.

Roche can't remember the last time he'd actually been able to dress himself up the way he wants. In the past, other people had already had things in mind and the gala had been no exception. This time however, it was in his hands and his alone. The jacket and vest went together just fine all on their own with the white dress shirt underneath it all, and while it was tempting to be a little Extra, the tie itself is a simple, plain black one. He already knows they're going to be right menaces, but that doesn't mean you can't look nice while doing it. The real effort came with his hair. He didn't mess with it often, but this time... It's special. The red streaks would wash out easily and while it's not exact, he did his best to match it to the shade Reno wore in the past. The flowers? Now that was the selling point - a not so big, not so small bouquet of red, orange, pink and yellow Amaryllis, accented by a sparse collection of Forget-Me-Nots and smaller wildflowers. The latter weren't his idea, but who was he to complain? Aerith was the flower expert, not him. (Surely she didn't do it to make it weird.)

Even with the car parked on the street behind him, he doesn't look too out of place at Reno's door in Sector 8. One last peek at the time on his phone - ten to eight. Taking a deep breath, Roche straightens up, and knocks.]}

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Next time I go in for a tune-up, I'll be sure to crash at your place when I come down from it. S'part of why I don't want to jump into Second class.

_{[That, and a higher rank means more work which means less time screwing around on the road and Causing Problems On Purpose. And it'd mean less time spent with the dumbapples of his eyes. Roche wouldn't stand for that, no sirree.]}

Though if you're really living off of nothing, it sounds like I ought to take you out more. I can't say I'm a good cook, but...

_{[Roche finally takes a bite of the gilded behemoth, and almost immediately his face contorts into a grimace. Oh, that's... Not great. Everything else practically drowns out the beef, and for a moment he looks like some poor, confused animal. Street life taught him to never waste food no matter how godawful it is though, so even though it takes a few painful seconds? Down it goes. And as soon as it does, he's reaching for the whiskey, tongue out.]}

—You're right. I taste better. Oh my god.

_{[Are there people out there who actually eat this on a regular basis? This is an affront to the classic burger! If anything needs some good ol' divine judgement, it's that! 1/10, would not recommend.]}

You'd cook for me? Baaabe.

[ Oh no. Oh god. There it goes. Reno laughs outright with a pfffthahaha and doesn't feel bad about it in the slightest. Hey, at least he he kept the stank look off his face! Doesn't matter if he's got better manners (he doesn't) or if he's just better conditioned not to let his utter disbelief show too much (probably), he ate that solid gold douche and by god he did not make a fuss. ]

Toldja. You think that's why the liquor's so strong? To drown out the taste of the godawful food?

[ Aw, maybe he shouldn't say that too loud. He wouldn't want to make Alfons feel bad. He'd probably agree though, poor kid. They really need to hire him out from under this hellhole. Maybe get him a nice admin job in the skylounge at HQ or something. Cushy, nice view, lots of perks. And basically no actual work he'd be responsible for, with a chunky-ass paycheck to boot. Yeah, that seems fair. Reno nods to himself as he's swallowing down the last of his whiskey in solidarity. ]

Don't worry. I'll get us crap-ass takeout when we get back to my place. Gotta have something for that totally innocent couch cuddle sesh, right?

[ There is obviously nothing innocent about anything he just said and he knows it. ]

_{[Oh, please poach Alfons. He'd thrive up in the skylounge, and if he doesn't watch it he might even get eaten up. Plus it'd be less awkward to loiter around that floor than it'd be to loiter here if anyone wanted to get his "attention." Roche would do it if he were ever in his position, that's for damn sure. The kid is wasted on a place like this.]}

God, it's like you're trying to make me fall for you.

_{[His laughter is along the lines of a subdued HAHAHAHhahahahaha-- and boy, Roche is killing it and himself with the shitty jokes tonight. That's probably the best-worst one he's told yet. Aaaaaaand there's that funky feeling in his chest again. Is he blaming this one on the doucheburger? You betcha. When in doubt, blame the weird food.

He's so fucked.]}

You do that, and I'll wake up bright and early to make... I don't know. Pancakes? Eggs? Whatever your heart desires.

_{[Because there is no way in hell he's going home by himself tonight. Nope. Reno's stuck with him until at least noon.]}

Whatever my heart desires, huh?

[ His? Heart? That he always acts like and sometimes even says he doesn't have? He could've still believed that if not for Tseng, maybe. After everything that happened with that mess, his chest's been torn wide open and his heart laid bare as surely as if Tseng had torn it out of him and slammed it down on the table to look at. You see? There it is. There's no denying it now—he's got one. And it works. And it works overtime, in fact, without even getting any double pay.

And it's doing a little flippedy-floppedy thing right now, which he circumvents dealing with by stuffing a bite of whatever the hell this... mushroom thing or... actually he doesn't know what it is he stabs on his fork (salad fork, you idiot) and eats, but it, too, is better than the douche, so whatever. ]

Can you do hashbrowns? Say yes and we have a deal.

[ they're not fries but they're close enough. And there they go again, doing the ankles thing under the table. You guys the last time this happened there was a blowjob. ]

Anything.

_{[Each syllable is punctuated with a light bump of his foot against Reno's ankle, and he takes the opportunity to tend to his own plate. He's not used to how rich it is compared to what he usually eats, but gosh darn it if these little potatoes aren't the cutest things. They're going right on his shopping list next time he goes out. He even goes as far as skewering a few to plop them onto Reno's plate, too. He's got no qualms about doing the sappy, gross thing and sharing.]}

But, yes. I can do those. I can do it hole-in-the-wall style where it's greasy as hell, or I can whip it up like they do in some of the places up here on the plates.

_{[It's going to be the greasy ones, don't worry. Roche knows that's where all the flavor is, and he saves all his bacon grease just for that.]}

I could even bring it to you in bed.

Mm-mm. Cheap and greasy, baby. That's the only way. Hah... fucked-out and full'a potatoes, that's what bed is for, right?

[ Living the life. Maybe not quite as nice as when Rude makes him breakfast, but he also hasn't had the benefit of fucking Rude and staying for breakfast just yet, either. Or having him stay. Huh, they should correct that, now that they finally broke the seal on that, huh? Or... like... would that be too much? Funny how he can wonder if that would be "too much" with Rude while thinking it's perfectly acceptable for Roche. Listen, it's lower stakes, that's the thing! He doesn't have as much to lose.

Maybe. Probably? Whatever. Speaking of potatoes, Reno plows into the ones Roche gives him, and those are actually good. So there is food that's halfway decent here after all! Imagine that. Then again, there probably isn't any kind of potato he won't eat. He's a dirt-eating commoner like that. ]

Guess I'll have to reward you for it before you head out.

_{[Life is short. Drive fast, leave a beautiful corpse and do whatever the hell your heart desires. Seriously, Reno. Don't let those dreams be dreams and just go for it. Take life by the handlebars and run.]}

You don't have to, Reno. I offer because it's honestly something I enjoy doing. And if it wasn't obvious already...

_{[Roche busies himself with horking down more of that Good Beef Shit, and maybe it's just to let Reno dangle for a little bit. He's got to tease, you know? If he didn't, things might take a turn for Weirdboring-ville, and he ain't about that.]}

I'll give you three guesses. No hints.

Mm...

[ What is he guessing? Reno makes a face with his mouth stuffed full of delicious baby potato, then washes it down with whiskey. Man, he's fuckin'... drunk. Like drunk drunk. Not buzzed, not tipsy, not kinda on the borderline, but drunk. There's a big difference between that and smashed or shit-faced, but still. Lest we not forget, he hasn't had a drink since Gooski's. Shit's gonna hit him hard, bro.

For now, though, it just seems to embolden him to be slutty in public (not unusual) and say whatever he wants to without giving a crap who hears or how anyone feels about it (also not really unusual). ]

What, you like me? You liiiike me-like me, I mean, with hearts'n glitter. Or you wanna impress me? Or you want me to "fall for you," as you put it? Am I close? Did I get it?

[ There goes his ankle sliiiiding up the inside of Roche's calf. ]

'Cause let me tell you something, Bike Guy. I liiiike you, too. You already impressed me. And as for that last bit...

[ meaningfully trails off because two can play at that game ]

_{[He's close. Eerily close. Roche studies him for a few moments, and during that time he's content to let Reno do that with his ankle. What can he say? He's always been a physical affection kind of person, and this is preeeeeeeetty damn close. The only thing that'd be more sappy and gross is if he reached across the table for Reno's hand, but he's not doing that.

That hits different than a half-assed game of footsie when it's in a high-class establishment during a da--dinner.]}

You don't want to fall for me, babe. I promise you that.

_{[He stabs one of the last two potatoes next and waves it around as he speaks. Thank god for alcohol for taking away his filter at a time like this, right??]}

The truth is, I actually give a shit about you and I like seeing you happy.

_{[Aaaaaaaaand he's sticking the fork out across the table again. Roche can feel that lady's eyes boring holes in the back of his skull because how dare these two act out like this and maybe her own date is a bit of a bore. Whatever. Roche has the best dinner buddy right fuckin' here and he's not sharing right now.]}

Likewise.

[ Oh, falling for him is a death sentence. Literally. Just look at Tseng! Dead twice over and now his career's over! And Rude? That guy is so fucked. And anyone else? God help them. He's a curse on whoever gets stuck with him. You know what's so fucked up, though? He can't say he has any regrets. About them, or about this. Because, yeah, he... he knows. He knows what the fuck is up. He can pretend he doesn't all damn day long, but—

Aughhhh. Not now. It's just dinner.

Tell that to the big smile that stretches across Reno's face as he leans forward and bites that potato off Roche's fork, though. Not a smirk or a grin or any of that other crap, but a genuine smile. He actually wears expressions of sincerity worse than he does those shifty, cocky ones. His face just doesn't know how to attractively express such genuine displays like that, man. He's not practiced at it. ]

You keep sweet-talking me like that and I dunno if I'm gonna be able to help it, though. Better humiliate me in public or slap me around on the ride back or somethin' before I start getting too comfortable.

Is "humiliation" even in your vocabulary? I get the feeling that if I tried something like that it would do the opposite and get your motor revving.

_{[It might've been an honest question if Roche didn't already know the answer to it. The list of things that can humiliate him in public is a short one. He doesn't know what Reno's is, but somehow he gets the feeling that no matter what he tried he'd simply roll with the punches. It's something that Roche adores, frankly. If anything it'd be more liable to put himself on the brink of shame.

He doesn't think about it too much, though. Nah, he'd much rather crank the ham up to eleven. Elbow? On the table. Chin? Right into his hand. Leaning in just a little bit? Totally. What he wouldn't give to put a picture of that sweet little smile on his nightstand.

Oh, he's got it bad.]}

Does it count as making a pass if I get my hands on you in the car? I'm asking for a friend.

I mean... nah, but it'd still be pretty funny. Nobody else would know you aren't totally serious if you decide to just haul off and call me a whore in front of all these fine, unsuspecting snobs.

[ It's what he's used to, after all. The sort of behavior he expects. Then again he never really went anywhere so nice with someone where being snapped at that he's a skank and shoved around was all that unusual. It's, like, kind of a joke? Foreplay? He pisses people off on purpose specifically to get a rise out of them, and he still gets laid at the end of the night, so whatever. It's not that he only "dates" (loosely used term, since he would say he doesn't date at all, period) assholes, but that he picks people who don't have any qualms about treating him how he ought to be.

But Roche ain't just a typical guy, is he?

Yo what is he talking about, all guys are just typical guys. All guys except, like, Rude, and Tseng, and maybe Rufus, and even they are also just typical guys, because men are easy and so are women—they all have the same electrical wiring in their brains that makes it easy to undo them. They think with their dicks and their hearts are glass, nobody's an exception. The only difference is his interest in using and abusing those obvious openings. Or letting them use his, as it were.

Whatever, he's drunk. He's drunk and Roche looks fuckin' adorable making chinhands at him like that. Reno copies him, both elbows on the table, chin pillowed in both hands. Upping the googoo eyes ante. ]

Mm, depends. If your "friend" just goes for it without saucing it up by asking, I'm gonna go ahead and say that's fair game.

[ The lady at the table next to them is flagging down her waiter. Not Alfons. Another waiter. And when he arrives, she murmurs into his ear and glowers in the direction of their table. Hahaha... they're getting complained about. ]

I'll keep that in mind.

_{[He sees movement just out of the corner of his eye, but he doesn't give it his full attention. Just a quick glance, a quirk of the brow, and just like that his eyes are back on Reno. For the time being they belong to him and him alone. His smile becomes a little more wistful, expression that much softer, and something in him twists. Try as he might, Roche can't keep himself from thinking back to Junon.

The quiet hiss from "dates" when he'd overstep an invisible line or a pointed look... Sometimes it was in jest, but they all had an ounce of honesty to them, too.

Without sparing it a second thought, Roche shifts. Stands partway up, and reaches across the table to brush his fingertips along the sharp angle of Reno's cheek. It's nowhere near the same as calling him a whore surrounded by people who no doubt have more money in their accounts than Roche will ever see in his life, but for people like them? Boy, it'd even draw attention in some seedy bar. Perhaps only long enough for a few sparing glances, but it's still noticeable. Here? Roche may as well be firing a flare into the ceiling to those around their table. Look at me. Look. Look. Look--]}

Calling you a whore is out of the question, Hotshot. If you want to give them something to talk about in their inner circles for a good month and try to get you flustered, just say the word and we'll grab Alfons when he comes back this way. I don't want to leave him high and dry, do you?

_{[Ohhhhhh boy. That can't be a good thing, can it? Roche, no. Bad dog. Sit. Stay. Heel.]}

[ Reno's not sure what he's expecting when Roche gets up, when he reaches out, toward him—he almost recoils out of confusion alone. What's he reaching for, something on his plate? Nope, his face. His cheek, where he touches it as tenderly as can be. He can count on one hand the number of people who he's let touch him that way. He can count on... two fingers, in fact. Actually, just one in practice, two that he would let do that. His lips part silently only just a fraction, and he knows better than to let any kind of reaction show, but he's... flustered. Reno the Unflusterable is flustered.

A little. Nothing crazy, he's not blushing and stammering and going iyaaa stooop and flailing his arms. Just feels like he may as well be, with how he sits there staring, his face hot and not just from the alcohol and the stuffy-ass temperature in here coupled with the fact that he's got his suit buttoned all the way up for once. They don't need to call Alfons. This did the trick.

After a few seconds, his brain clicks back on and he plasters his smile back onto his face, tilting his cheek toward Roche's fingers while they're there. And then, before they're gone, turns his head and presses his lips to his fingertips. ]

Yeah. Let's get 'im. You flash the jewel and I'll pop the question, then we're taillights, babe.

_{[Roche lets them linger, thumb brushing against his bottom lip as he pulls his hand back. Right, that little gem has been burning a hole against his hip all night. He fishes it from his pocket, holding it oh-so-precariously between his fingertips and pretends to shield it from Reno's eyes with his hand. It's done just the right way that when he catches eyes with an unrelated waiter approaching, Roche quickly presses a finger to his lips in a shhhh motion.

Don't go spoiling the surprise, asshole. Scold them after.]}

Anyone would have a hard time saying no to you, Reno. I can only think of one instance where I'd say it myself, but I know you'd never ask me the question that would warrant it.

_{[His eyes dart up, meet Alfons', and right back down they go towards Reno. Better throw in the smallest of brow wiggles too.]}

Three... Two... One... Showtime, babe.

_{[Aaaaand just like that, Roche practically lights up. Even bounces on his heels once as he plasters the most harmless smile he can. It's all genuine, and if anyone thinks he's more than a little tipsy? That's perfectly fine. He does feel it, albeit not as strong as he would if he didn't have that godawful mako in his blood.]}

Alfons! We were just talking about you!

_{[Did I do something--?]}

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NO DATE ONLY DINNER (ft the junon scrubs)

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