Even Turks have a home life... (Implied Rude/Reno)
"Shut up," Reno said automatically, absent-mindedly flipping a finger in his partner's direction, his eyes already intent upon the mugs on the counter. Long practice with this particular form of willpower let him not reach up and attempt to smooth down his hair-- bad though it probably was, it was a matter of pride, and it wasn't likely to do any good anyway.
With the addition of caffeine to the mix, the morning routine began in earnest. While Rude took his turn in the tiny bathroom, Reno started digging through the stash of clothes he kept in his partner's closet-- though the pile was a great deal smaller than he'd hoped. "Hey, I thought you were gonna do laundry last night."
"I did my laundry," Rude's voice came floating back to him. "You can do your own, you know where the room is."
"Yeah, but the last time I went down there, I made your landlady scream."
Rude's head poked around the corner and quirked an eyebrow at him. "That's because you were half-naked and wearing your gun."
"Well of course I was half-naked, I was doing /laundry/." He gave Rude a look to let him know that should have been obvious.
There was one complete set of clothes that was clean, at least, so Reno pulled it all on and tried to shake out the worst of the wrinkles. The next stop was the bottom drawer where he kept his gun and other accessories. There, too, he paused, and turned to look at Rude as the other Turk came in to the room and headed for the closet. "Rude, did you--"
"What?" Rude glanced over, saw the empty ammunition box in his partner's hand. "Oh. Yeah, sorry."
Reno sighed and rolled his eyes. "Look, I don't mind you using it, just /replace /it after, okay?" He tucked the empty gun in its holster anyway and closed the drawer, standing.
"We can stop at Supply on the way in," Rude offered, and Reno nodded acceptance as he grabbed his nightstick off the bedside table. With one final check to make sure nothing was forgotten, they were out the door and off to begin the day.