Scepticism lines the gaze resting on the parcel. Tseng can’t tell what it is from sight alone. It’s small enough to be many things and large enough to be many other things. Dark eyes travel up the line of TG’s arm and settle on his face. And still, Tseng can’t read anything; not in his eyes, not in his smile, not in his body language. TG, apparently, has a poker-face to die for. He’ll have to remember never to challenge him to a game. 

His initial reaction was merely a blink.  He’d passed by his desk a dozen times or so during the day, and was quite certain he hadn’t just missed the package before; surprisingly crisp wrapping paper and a draping ribbon.  Interesting.

More interesting was the fact there was only a tag: “To: Sephiroth, From: Ruluf”.

Gifts from Turks were more or less not necessarily something to be considered… “safe”, according to most SOLDIERs and associated personnel.  Often times warnings were given due to various “prank days”, April 1st included.  During the winter holiday, however…

Sephiroth managed to leave the package there and dealt with his curiosity for approximately 7 minutes.  Not a record, but not too terribly poor.  Finally the need to know got the better of him, carefully unwrapping the box, salvaging the ribbon, and leaning back as he removed the lid, “just in case”.

Chocolate.  That was a necessity, as were socks that appeared to be a step or two above the Shinra-issue variety, deeply important for winter.  Not to mention a collection of pens, which was always an appreciated gift in a building where it seemed pen theft skyrocketed above the rest of the world.  Various types of imported coffee beans were even to be found in the box - and those would be safely hidden from everyone else.  Everyone.

The gloves managed to be another appreciated surprise, of various styles and suitably fitting.  He wasn’t exactly sure about the ones with the fur cuffs, but quite frankly… Sephiroth thought he may find use for them.  Finally coming to a small box within the box, carefully placed at the bottom center, his attention was piqued further.

That box too was opened with some degree of caution, “just in case”.  Discovering a necklace inside was certainly a bit of a surprise, as he really didn’t tend to wear jewelry, though there weren’t regulations against it.  (Genesis had danging earrings, for Shiva’s sake.)  And, maybe…

Well.  It was a gift.  It would be rude not to wear it for the holiday for which is was given, surely.  And if anyone smirked or scoffed… that was what his patented withering look was for.

It had been a steady progression. It was one thing to be someone’s partner. It was another to be something more than that. They’d started out with so much friction in between them. It was probably their similar backgrounds which drew them together. 

At first there was the teasing. His lips so close to the other’s skin, leaving him wondering, guessing. Then when contact was finally made, the shows of affection were innocent. A peck on the forehead or the cheek. Sometimes the nose. As things progressed, it became deeper. The lips and the neck started getting more attention. Then, when they started getting intimate, other areas were open to his lips. A kiss over the stomach to make his partner squirm, or a kiss over his chest right where his heartbeat was. Sometimes in the quieter moments, he’d kiss over those calloused hands.  

This statement received a playful eye roll on the biker’s part.

“You pinned me to a wall and started grinding up against me, you dummy. I’m not dead you know.” All the same, Alvis took the other’s face in his hands and pulled him in for a kiss. 

“But yeah, if you absolutely must know, I’m happy to see you.” 

His back hit the glass wall of the elevator with a solid thud as his partner was suddenly on him. The biker’s breath hitched a little in surprise. It was sometimes hard to tell when Ruluf was in the mood for fooling around, especially on the clock.