Chapter Text
Shelke had found Vincent approximately a month ago. Reeve had been in the his office with Rufus Shinra when the call had come through.
More than a few events had sent Rita running through the halls of the WRO, but that had been the happiest one to date. Reeve had immediately called his Cait Sith unit back from wherever he had been scouring the planet for signs or rumours of Vincent.
Today, she hugged her PHS to her chest for a brief moment, staring up at the crumbling ceiling with a giddy grin.
“Note to self,” she said aloud. “Have the cleanup crews take a look at the structural integrity of the ceiling in the main hallway.”
“Talkin’ to yerself again, missy?”
“Cait!” Rita turned around and brandished her PHS at the small robot before pocketing it. “Just found out some good news. Are you back from your search?”
“Headed out again now.” The cat pointed behind her, down the hallway. “Need to look into somethin’ for the Big Boss.”
Rita rolled her eyes. “You can just call him Rufus when you’re here at the WRO.”
“There’s no fun in that,” Cait replied with a cheeky grin. “Tell the boss I say hullo an’ to get his head out of his arse. Although he’s already heard by now, ya know.”
She gave him a thumbs up and a wink as he bounded past her.
***
An hour later, Rita found Reeve buried behind a mountain of paperwork on his desk.
“Get my head out of my arse about what exactly?” Reeve asked as she walked in following a courtesy knock.
“You should let your accent come out more often, sir.” She skipped over answering his initial question. “It’s charming.”
“Habit, I’m afraid,” he said, a small blush colouring his cheeks. “I can hear Ma’s voice in my head yelling at me.”
She nodded and sat down on the leather loveseat in the centre of his office. It reminded her of when she first started working for Reeve, pulling all nighters while sneaking glances at her boss in between paperwork when she could.
After a comfortable silence save the occasional tapping of a stylus or scratching of pen across paper, Reeve sighed, massaging his temples with his fingers.
“Too much paperwork?”
“It’s just that—“
“—sometimes you wish you were a fighter.”
“—sometimes I wish I was a fighter.”
They said this in tandem. Reeve grinned up at her.
“Have I mentioned recently how incredibly grateful I am that you decided to join me here at the WRO?”
“Have I mentioned recently how incredibly grateful I am that survived Meteorfall at all?” she retorted.
Rita had already crossed the room and placed her hand on his shoulder before his face fell.
“Not your fault, Reeve,” she said softly.
He looked up at her with a sad smile. She was reminded of the original Shinra building and the night after the Sector Seven plate collapse.
“It is, but your kindness is appreciated, as always,” Reeve said wistfully. He shook his head. “Unfortunately it’s also undeserved.”
It was an old argument, carried from the 63rd floor of the Shinra tower to these new-yet-similar offices of the WRO. Reeve’s overwhelming amount of guilt was only surpassed by one other man she knew.
“That reminds me,” she said aloud.
Reeve’s eyes followed her, confused, as she walked towards the doorway and retrieved a bottle of wine from where she’d placed it behind the door.
“What’s the occasion?”
“Vincent bought a PHS,” she said. “I received a message from Tifa this morning about it. He’s looking for work.”
Reeve quirked an eyebrow. “You purchased an incredibly expensive bottle of wine for me because Vincent bought a phone?”
“No,” she said. Her grin was equal parts disarming and intimidating. Reeve felt like he should have backed away, but she was already in front of him, pressing the bottle into his hands. “You did.”
“I did?”
Rita shrugged. “I used your account to buy it. You can afford it.”
“That’s not really the point—“ Reeve placed the bottle of wine on his desk and held his hands up in a gesture of surrender at her immediate glare.
“Rita, I’m not mad. I’m confused. You wanted me to buy Vincent a bottle of wine to celebrate his purchase of a new phone.”
“A new phone, with which he can better communicate with you.”
Reeve blushed. “I really don’t think that he’s going to use it for anything other than business. Or possibly telling Yuffie to stop bothering him.”
“He won’t,” she said in agreement. “But, business is the only way either of you know how to communicate.”
“What else would he have to communicate with me about? You just said he was looking for work.”
Rita internally congratulated herself on the fact that Reeve flushed even darker as he said this.
“Aren’t you two friends?” She asked the question guilelessly, as if she was confused at his previous statement. Reeve’s eyes narrowed.
“Don’t assume ignorance Rita, you’re one of the most intelligent people I know.” There was no bite to his words, just another blush and some fidgeting with his notepad stylus. He weaved it deftly between his fingers as he looked down at the paperwork littered across his desk.
Rita decided to change her strategy. “I used to watch this silly drama growing up,” she began. “The two leads were hopeless about how they felt about each other and it dragged on for eight seasons. Even as a kid I was so annoyed by them.”
“You’re comparing my friendship with Vincent to a televised soap opera now?”
“No, I just felt a moment of remarkable solidarity with the lead’s long-suffering best friend,” she said with a grin.