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no_true_pairTitle: Made to Fit
Author:mystiri_1
Fandom: Final Fantasy VII
Pairing/characters: Kadaj/Rude
Rating: G
Warnings: none
Prompt: Kadaj tries on Rude's clothes
Summary: If they're not going to be part of Mother's Reunion, they'll have to find themselves a new place.
Kadaj paces about the bare room and sulks. It's bad enough he allowed himself to be persuaded to listen to Rufus Shinra – he can hear Mother's voice hissing angrily at him even now, but he's sick of listening to her, suspicious that all she really cares about is Him, anyway – but then they had to go and dump him here while they decided what they were going to do with the three of them. As if it wasn't Rufus's idea for them to change sides in the first place, and shouldn't he have had some sort of plan, first?
Loz and Yazoo are nearby, because he can still feel them. He reaches out a little, feels Yazoo's cool amusement, Loz's curiousity as he investigates something he has found in his room, and it calms him. The latter encourages him to look around the room he is in, to see if there is anything of interest. Furnishings are scant – a bed, a small bedside table and a wardrobe – and Kadaj wonders that anybody would want to stay here. Rufus is supposed to be wealthy, after all, and this place is all plain wooden floors and walls, with too many trees and bugs waiting outside. But there's a book on the bedside table, suggesting the room is not unoccupied. He picks it up.
“Barriers to Communication: Understanding Non-Verbal Languages,” Kadaj reads aloud. “Sounds boring.” He sits down on the bed, flips through a few pages, then tosses it aside. His gaze falls upon the wardrobe. “There must be something interesting in there.” If only to make up for the total lack of it elsewhere.
What he finds are... suits. Nothing else, except for a spare pair of shoes down the bottom. Whoever stays in here – and it must be one of the Turks, because these are Turk suits – is extremely boring, in Kadaj's opinion. It's a bit disappointing, because so far, the Turks have been among the most interesting humans he's met.
Or at least the most durable. Not many can survive an encounter with him and his brothers, let alone actually causing a few injuries in return.
“Maybe we could be Turks,” Kadaj says as the thought occurs to him, and it's a good one. Turks are feared and respected, which he approves of, and better yet, Turks are paid, and paid well, lousy current accomodations aside. Kadaj likes the idea of being able to buy things. Sure, he can take whatever he wants, but he never gets much time to look around and try things. People always get so worked up, and then they have to leave.
He'll probably look good in a suit. He looks good in anything – Yazoo says so, and Yazoo would know because he's smart about those kind of things. Of course, they look a lot alike, and Kadaj is quite sure Yazoo would look good in a suit, so it kind of follows. And Reno, with his snide remarks about 'junior fetishwear', knows nothing.
It's really only logical to try one on and make sure. Unfortunately, that rapidly brings him to the conclusion that this room belongs to the biggest Turk, the quiet one that the others call Rude. The shirt is huge and hangs on him like a dress; the pants are held up only by virtue of cinching the belt as tightly as it will go, the extra fabric bulging in uncomfortable loops about his waist. But Kadaj is stubborn, and perseveres. The ties is too difficult for him, but he tries on the jacket – the cuffs hang well past his wrists – and toes into the shoes – of course the man has big feet, there are probably elfadunks that don't have feet this big, it's amazing he didn't step on Kadaj and squish him just by accident – and then the door opens.
It's the biggest Turk. Rude. And he stands there, his suit fitting perfectly so the Kadaj can see that he has even broader shoulders than Loz, and it's not fair; why couldn't he have ended up in Reno's room? Reno's suit would have been much closer in size.
Rude doesn't say anything. His expression doesn't even change – although there are those sunglasses, which might be hiding something, and why aren't there a pair of those in here somewhere? Kadaj thinks he'd like sunglasses, and at least those are a one-size-fits-all kind of thing – as he stares at Kadaj, making him more and more self-conscious, so that he ends up demanding, “What are you looking at?”
There's a long pause before Rude replies.
“I'm not quite sure.”
The words make Kadaj see red, not the least because he suspects he looks quite ridiculous and he hates that, hates thinking that people might be laughing at him. That's why he says, in what he knows full well is his brattiest tone (because Yazoo has told him so, and even Loz agreed), “Well, you must be stupid, then.” It's juvenile, but satisfying.
Rude doesn't bother with a retort, though, and that takes all of the fun out of it. He simply says, “Turk suits are individually tailored to fit us and our chosen weapons.”
It's just an observation, but what Kadaj actually hears is, “They won't fit you.” And he gets angrier.
“I could too be a Turk!”
Rude's expression... twitches, and he turns and carefully opens the door, steps outside. He closes it behind him with a firm click, and then Kadaj hears it, the sound that makes him shriek with rage and throw one of those awful, over-sized shoes at the door.
Rude is laughing. At him.
He all but rips the jacket off, and is satisfied when he hears fabric tear in the process. He throws it on the ground and goes to jump on it when he almost trips over the bottom of the pants, so they follow. He does jump on them then, and proceeds to trash the room – as much is as possible with three pieces of furniture and a book. Mostly, he throws the same things around repeatedly, going until his temper is finally exhausted.
And exhausted he is. He stands there, panting, still in the too-big shirt, and tries to figure out where his own clothes are. Somewhere underneath the bedding strewn around the floor, most probably. It's annoying to realise he was probably throwing his own things around as well; digging them out to get changed feels like too much effort.
The mattress, at least, didn't go far, so he drags it back onto its frame and flops down. He's tired, and now that his anger is gone, even more humiliated and upset. He does his best not to act like a child, like the brat that Yazoo sometimes calls him, but then something like this happens and he can't help it. Mother always talked to him, rather than his brothers, which meant he was in charge – but too often he feels like Yazoo and Loz are just humouring him, indulging him their baby brother. They don't seem to realise just how hard he does try, because what he decides affects all three of them. And now they're here, and not listening to Mother at all because Kadaj said so, and Kadaj has probably ruined everything. The thought makes him curl up into a little ball. He's glad that Loz and Yazoo have rooms of their own, because he's sniffling just a little into the fabric of the mattress, and he doesn't want them to get the wrong idea. He's not a crybaby like Loz.
He falls asleep still sniffling, the stress of the day catching up with him, but the almost-silent click of the door opening again wakes him.
He refuses to open his eyes, because it's probably Rude again, and Kadaj hates him more than anyone else he knows. The big Turk must think he's ridiculous and childish, and wouldn't want to work with someone like Kadaj if he did become a Turk, and Kadaj can feel himself getting angry and defensive all over again just thinking about it. He hears something that sounds like a sigh, fabric rustling, then footsteps approaching the bed. He wants to look – what if Rude's going to do something, because Kadaj would be angry if somebody threw his stuff around like that – but he keeps his eyes stubbornly closed, because he's not going to let on that he's worried, not one bit.
It's harder to do so when a blanket settles over him, because he wasn't expecting that at all. Rude tucks it around his tense shoulders – like Loz does sometimes – and the mattress shifts as he sits on the edge. Kadaj doesn't move a muscle as big, blunt fingers brush a strand of hair away from his face. It's puzzling, because it doesn't hurt, doesn't feel angry at all. His brothers are the only ones that ever touch him that way, and even they don't do it often.
Rude speaks quietly, and the volume turns it into a low rumble that makes Kadaj think of the way his motorcycle sounds when idling. “I'm sure they can make one in your size, too.”
Just like everything else, it's not what he's expecting, so Kadaj doesn't say anything. He waits, and the mattress shifts as Rude stands up again. Finally, there is the sound of the door closing. Kadaj fists the woollen material of the blanket in his hands and pulls it a bit closer.
Maybe he doesn't hate Rude that much. Just... a little.
Author:
mystiri_1 Fandom: Final Fantasy VII
Pairing/characters: Kadaj/Rude
Rating: G
Warnings: none
Prompt: Kadaj tries on Rude's clothes
Summary: If they're not going to be part of Mother's Reunion, they'll have to find themselves a new place.
Kadaj paces about the bare room and sulks. It's bad enough he allowed himself to be persuaded to listen to Rufus Shinra – he can hear Mother's voice hissing angrily at him even now, but he's sick of listening to her, suspicious that all she really cares about is Him, anyway – but then they had to go and dump him here while they decided what they were going to do with the three of them. As if it wasn't Rufus's idea for them to change sides in the first place, and shouldn't he have had some sort of plan, first?
Loz and Yazoo are nearby, because he can still feel them. He reaches out a little, feels Yazoo's cool amusement, Loz's curiousity as he investigates something he has found in his room, and it calms him. The latter encourages him to look around the room he is in, to see if there is anything of interest. Furnishings are scant – a bed, a small bedside table and a wardrobe – and Kadaj wonders that anybody would want to stay here. Rufus is supposed to be wealthy, after all, and this place is all plain wooden floors and walls, with too many trees and bugs waiting outside. But there's a book on the bedside table, suggesting the room is not unoccupied. He picks it up.
“Barriers to Communication: Understanding Non-Verbal Languages,” Kadaj reads aloud. “Sounds boring.” He sits down on the bed, flips through a few pages, then tosses it aside. His gaze falls upon the wardrobe. “There must be something interesting in there.” If only to make up for the total lack of it elsewhere.
What he finds are... suits. Nothing else, except for a spare pair of shoes down the bottom. Whoever stays in here – and it must be one of the Turks, because these are Turk suits – is extremely boring, in Kadaj's opinion. It's a bit disappointing, because so far, the Turks have been among the most interesting humans he's met.
Or at least the most durable. Not many can survive an encounter with him and his brothers, let alone actually causing a few injuries in return.
“Maybe we could be Turks,” Kadaj says as the thought occurs to him, and it's a good one. Turks are feared and respected, which he approves of, and better yet, Turks are paid, and paid well, lousy current accomodations aside. Kadaj likes the idea of being able to buy things. Sure, he can take whatever he wants, but he never gets much time to look around and try things. People always get so worked up, and then they have to leave.
He'll probably look good in a suit. He looks good in anything – Yazoo says so, and Yazoo would know because he's smart about those kind of things. Of course, they look a lot alike, and Kadaj is quite sure Yazoo would look good in a suit, so it kind of follows. And Reno, with his snide remarks about 'junior fetishwear', knows nothing.
It's really only logical to try one on and make sure. Unfortunately, that rapidly brings him to the conclusion that this room belongs to the biggest Turk, the quiet one that the others call Rude. The shirt is huge and hangs on him like a dress; the pants are held up only by virtue of cinching the belt as tightly as it will go, the extra fabric bulging in uncomfortable loops about his waist. But Kadaj is stubborn, and perseveres. The ties is too difficult for him, but he tries on the jacket – the cuffs hang well past his wrists – and toes into the shoes – of course the man has big feet, there are probably elfadunks that don't have feet this big, it's amazing he didn't step on Kadaj and squish him just by accident – and then the door opens.
It's the biggest Turk. Rude. And he stands there, his suit fitting perfectly so the Kadaj can see that he has even broader shoulders than Loz, and it's not fair; why couldn't he have ended up in Reno's room? Reno's suit would have been much closer in size.
Rude doesn't say anything. His expression doesn't even change – although there are those sunglasses, which might be hiding something, and why aren't there a pair of those in here somewhere? Kadaj thinks he'd like sunglasses, and at least those are a one-size-fits-all kind of thing – as he stares at Kadaj, making him more and more self-conscious, so that he ends up demanding, “What are you looking at?”
There's a long pause before Rude replies.
“I'm not quite sure.”
The words make Kadaj see red, not the least because he suspects he looks quite ridiculous and he hates that, hates thinking that people might be laughing at him. That's why he says, in what he knows full well is his brattiest tone (because Yazoo has told him so, and even Loz agreed), “Well, you must be stupid, then.” It's juvenile, but satisfying.
Rude doesn't bother with a retort, though, and that takes all of the fun out of it. He simply says, “Turk suits are individually tailored to fit us and our chosen weapons.”
It's just an observation, but what Kadaj actually hears is, “They won't fit you.” And he gets angrier.
“I could too be a Turk!”
Rude's expression... twitches, and he turns and carefully opens the door, steps outside. He closes it behind him with a firm click, and then Kadaj hears it, the sound that makes him shriek with rage and throw one of those awful, over-sized shoes at the door.
Rude is laughing. At him.
He all but rips the jacket off, and is satisfied when he hears fabric tear in the process. He throws it on the ground and goes to jump on it when he almost trips over the bottom of the pants, so they follow. He does jump on them then, and proceeds to trash the room – as much is as possible with three pieces of furniture and a book. Mostly, he throws the same things around repeatedly, going until his temper is finally exhausted.
And exhausted he is. He stands there, panting, still in the too-big shirt, and tries to figure out where his own clothes are. Somewhere underneath the bedding strewn around the floor, most probably. It's annoying to realise he was probably throwing his own things around as well; digging them out to get changed feels like too much effort.
The mattress, at least, didn't go far, so he drags it back onto its frame and flops down. He's tired, and now that his anger is gone, even more humiliated and upset. He does his best not to act like a child, like the brat that Yazoo sometimes calls him, but then something like this happens and he can't help it. Mother always talked to him, rather than his brothers, which meant he was in charge – but too often he feels like Yazoo and Loz are just humouring him, indulging him their baby brother. They don't seem to realise just how hard he does try, because what he decides affects all three of them. And now they're here, and not listening to Mother at all because Kadaj said so, and Kadaj has probably ruined everything. The thought makes him curl up into a little ball. He's glad that Loz and Yazoo have rooms of their own, because he's sniffling just a little into the fabric of the mattress, and he doesn't want them to get the wrong idea. He's not a crybaby like Loz.
He falls asleep still sniffling, the stress of the day catching up with him, but the almost-silent click of the door opening again wakes him.
He refuses to open his eyes, because it's probably Rude again, and Kadaj hates him more than anyone else he knows. The big Turk must think he's ridiculous and childish, and wouldn't want to work with someone like Kadaj if he did become a Turk, and Kadaj can feel himself getting angry and defensive all over again just thinking about it. He hears something that sounds like a sigh, fabric rustling, then footsteps approaching the bed. He wants to look – what if Rude's going to do something, because Kadaj would be angry if somebody threw his stuff around like that – but he keeps his eyes stubbornly closed, because he's not going to let on that he's worried, not one bit.
It's harder to do so when a blanket settles over him, because he wasn't expecting that at all. Rude tucks it around his tense shoulders – like Loz does sometimes – and the mattress shifts as he sits on the edge. Kadaj doesn't move a muscle as big, blunt fingers brush a strand of hair away from his face. It's puzzling, because it doesn't hurt, doesn't feel angry at all. His brothers are the only ones that ever touch him that way, and even they don't do it often.
Rude speaks quietly, and the volume turns it into a low rumble that makes Kadaj think of the way his motorcycle sounds when idling. “I'm sure they can make one in your size, too.”
Just like everything else, it's not what he's expecting, so Kadaj doesn't say anything. He waits, and the mattress shifts as Rude stands up again. Finally, there is the sound of the door closing. Kadaj fists the woollen material of the blanket in his hands and pulls it a bit closer.
Maybe he doesn't hate Rude that much. Just... a little.
no subject
Date: 2011-05-08 09:35 pm (UTC)This just made my entire life.
D'hawwww!