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Sparring

Reader with some kind of position that sees action. Turk? Soldier? Catches a bored Rufus' eye.

Now that's a man I'd like to toy with, you thought when you saw your boss smile. You covered your mouth in embarrassment, as if the words had written themselves across your face. Don't hold your breath, you told yourself, and returned to focusing on your job.

Roughly a week a half later, President Rufus cast you an appraising side glance. "I'm bored. I heard you're good. Let's see. Meet me in the training simulator in an hour."

Luck dropped an opportunity on you. Slightly overwhelmed but determined to make this a worthwhile match, your muscles tensed in your chosen stance. There was no need to be so serious (the bullets wouldn't be real) but you couldn't shake that it would be wise to impress him. If you prooved a worthy opponent, maybe you would get this opportunity again. As you stared at each other, you felt an invisible Tseng prickle your back, judging this endeavour.

"Stop playing around and letting the president slack off," he might say.

Okay, but are you allowed to say no to said president?

Rufus caught you off guard initially with his unusual and calculating style. After thirty seconds of being evasive, you started to see a pattern in his movements. This time, it wasn't enough. He had you on the ground after a minute with a muzzle pointed down at you.

"Not bad," he pronounced, pulling the gun back, "for a first try."

Before you could jump up and demand a second round, he turned and confidently strode out of the simulator.

Just as his words implied, he let you have many more "tries" after that embarrassing defeat. He had a few more tricks up his sleeve but that was surpsingly it. It was how practiced he was and the way he made blasting around look so easy that was the intimidating part. After the initial caution of fighting the actual president wore off, you settled into analyzing and reacting accordingly. Slowly, you became more aggressive than defensive. It was, however, difficult not to rush at him head-on and forcibly remove that smirk of his with your own hands. Just seeing him on the ground once, just once. You would stand over him, stealing that removed smirk and wearing it yourself.

This 'playing' with the president went on for a while. Tseng even took notice and warned you not to hurt your mutual boss too badly. Actually, he wasn't the only one who noticed. The especially exciting recordings of your sparring sessions had begun to circulate Shinra Tower. The rank and file and executives were gossiping alike. Thankfully, you weren't aware. The pressure of an audience would have thrown you off your trajectory to knocking the arrogant man on his ass.

Before too long, you had an idea. Your own trick. You let the next session play out as usual. Then, when he grabbed your shoulder to counter your attack, you turned it around. You ignored the presumptuous and pleased shiver and threw him, hard. He landed with a grunt but was already about to retaliate. Thankfully, you had been practicing with Rude on the side. You pinned the arm holding the shotgun. Just to make doubly sure, you flipped him onto his stomach and pinned both arms behind his back. Firmly, but gently--Tseng could thank you later--you kneeled with your full weight.

A few long seconds passed. "I yield," he said flatly.

You let him go. He got up and dusted himself off.

"Now, that's what I'm looking for." His usual smirk returned. Your confusion prompted him to explain (but not really explain), "You're getting a promotion."

What, you mouthed to yourself.

He left. The next day you got an offer for the position of the president's personal bodyguard.