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The Little Guy	By : TokiMirage Category: Final Fantasy VII > Yaoi - Male/Male > Cloud/Sephiroth Views: 2376 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 3
Disclaimer: I own no FFVII, I do own my own creative mind, and If I actually made money off this I would be rich. But I don't. So I starve.

Chapter List
- 9
- 10
- 11
The Little Guy
. , . , .
Chapter Ten:
Secretarial Strife
Sephiroth let loose a small sigh as he leaned against the wall of the executive elevator. Another night of substandard sleep and too much work for one person to handle. Closing his eyes, he let his tired mind run over the project he had to present to the President in less than a week, on Monday. It was Tuesday already, wasn’t it…?
The elevator paused on the Turk floor and Sephiroth withheld a grimace at the sight of Tseng. The man walked through the doors, inclining his head to the General in greeting.
“Hello, Sephiroth. How are you this morning?”
He hated when Turks tried to talk to him. They always had ulterior motives.
The General resisted the urge to unsheathe his sword in the tiny space. “Fine. You?”
The Turk grinned. “Good.”
Sephiroth raised an eyebrow at the uncharacteristic good mood. “What’s the good news?”
Tseng smirked slightly. “Oh, just got our hands on a potential security breach last night. Might have a new Turk soon, too.”
Sephiroth nodded and closed his eyes again, counting the floors they went by until they hit the 61^st. The only people with offices higher than his own were the directors and the President, so he gave Tseng a small nod of his head before making his way into his office.
He paused at the sight of his secretary.
Immediately, his eyes catalogued the plethora of used tissues soaked with bodily fluids, empty candy wrappers, and a cup of coffee that smelled distinctly of his-own, brand-new, specially-for-him coffee.
Green eyes narrowed.
Was that alcohol he smelled?
“Good morning, General,” she sniffled around another tissue, blowing her nose and dabbing at the black lines on her face. She typed something into the computer before bursting into sobs.
Sephiroth inched around the secretary’s desk and counted the suspiciously familiar candy wrappers. All of his cupboard stash. Decimated.
He slammed his office door behind him and stood there for a long moment, head bowed, hair falling in front of his face. His hand twitched with the urge to draw Masamune. Instead, he forced himself to put the sword on its stand behind his desk and get to work.
Beep
Sephiroth pressed the flashing red button on his desk.
“G-g-gener-eral – sniff – there’s a c-ca- – sniff – call on li-line t-two – sob – s-sir.”
Bringing his thumb and forefinger, he waited for clarification.
And waited.
“Cynthia,” he barked. “Who is it?”
He hadn’t even had his coffee yet. He did not have the patience for this- this- secretarial crisis she seemed to be undergoing at the moment.
“Z-Zack F-F-Fair, s-sir!”
With an annoyed grunt, he picked up the phone. “Fair. This had better be important.”
“Aw, Seph, you haven’t had your morning coffee yet, have you? I was just calling to let you know that things are going pretty good over here! Landed safe and sound, there’s some good Intel, too. I think this’ll be a quick and easy demolition.”
“Then finish it quickly and return to your paperwork. Did you think I wouldn’t notice the stack you hid under your desk before you left?”
“Ahah… ha… So, Seph! Found any cute girls lately? Cute boys? You really should do something about that, you know. Getting frustrated doesn’t make work any easier!”
Sephiroth let out a quiet sigh and shuffled through the papers on his desk, wondering what he should get started with that morning. Whenever Zack started going on about his lack of romantic inclinations, his interest waned. He’d engaged in sexual encounters when he first went into puberty, under Hojo’s watchful eye, but it had never been something he enjoyed doing.
Whether it was with women, or the few times Hojo had brought him a man.
“If you have nothing else of import to report, I suggest you get back to work, Lieutenant.” He finally said, losing his patience with the blathering of his subordinate and hanging up the phone.
He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to mentally block the sounds of sobbing and sniffling coming from the adjacent room.
Sometimes he hated mako-enhanced senses.
. , . , .
“A-a-and I j-just don’t – sob – know what t-to do, Jenny! He- he left me for a- a- a- fucking slut!”
Sephiroth heard a crack and looked down at his hand, which had snapped his pen in half. Tossing it in the garbage with an irritable scowl, he left his office to wash his hand off in the sink, doing his best to ignore the way his secretary was curled up around the phone not even looking at her desk and pretending to do work like she had been for her entire shift yesterday.
He made more noise around the coffee machine and let out a sigh of relief when she quickly and not-so-stealthily said goodbye to the other person on the line and hung up.
“Cynthia. I sent requisition forms for materia a few weeks ago. I want a status report.”
“Y-yes, sir.”
On top of all the other things he had floating in the back of his mind, the last thing he wanted to be doing was worrying about having enough materia for his SOLDIERs when they went on missions. With the increase of his men this past exam and the decline in fatalities, he’d been running out of supplies faster than the company was providing.
It was vexing.
Finishing the final touches to his half-full cup of coffee, he went back to his office to get more work done.
. , . , .
Sephiroth eyed the pile of slightly damp and shiny requisition forms in front of him. Not only had she cried on them, he knew that little bit of sheen on the bottom left corner was snot.
Snot. On his paperwork.
He heard the smash of glass and closed his eyes, taking a nice, slow breath. That was the third of his mugs she’d broken. He was going to have to go by more. He was going to have to go to a shopping centre and buy more, since at this point he doubted she could navigate herself through a doorway without smacking into it.
Not to mention the emails she had accidentally been sending him. He hadn’t realized that she was such a high ranking member of Silver Elite.

Then there were the… pictures.
Pictures of Zack and he, modified to look as though they were…
Well.
He grimaced and looked down at his empty coffee cup. He’d been rationing his intake carefully to find the best balance for his work day, and he had to admit that it was far more effective at keeping him awake and lucid than the brew he usually drank. And it did taste… better.
Thirty four minutes and twenty seven seconds until his next cup.
Pushing himself out of his chair, his mind was only on one thing.
Seeing that Cynthia was engaged with whatever was on her computer, Sephiroth quickly snuck a chocolate bar out of his hiding spot.
Only, there wasn’t any there.
He pulled the seat of the chair up all the way and stared down in disbelief at the blank, empty black of nothingness.
No chocolate.
He went straight to the cupboard and pulled open all the doors, looking for the chocolate he’d stashed in here too.
Gone. All gone. His entire stash. Just…
Gone
“Cynthia. Did you touch the chocolate?”
“Hm?” she murmured listlessly, rubbing at her eyes and drinking more of his coffee. If he had cared about anything other than the chocolate no longer stored where he’d put it, he might have cared about the way her pupils were blown, her eyes were red, and so were the corners of her nose.
But he didn’t.
“Where is the chocolate?”
She stared at him blankly. “Chocolate? You mean… the chocolate Zack’s been hiding in your office, sir? I… took care of it. He’s always coming in here and bothering you, so I-“
“What do you mean ‘took care of it.’ Explain yourself.”
Now she looked frightened. Well, she should be frightened.
He was pissed.
“Well… I… ate it?”
He stared. On top of eating the trifles he’d stored in the cupboards, she’d pilfered the rest of his stash?
“You’re fired.”
Her eyes widened even more as she sniffled. “W-what? W-why?”
Sephiroth’s eyes narrowed.
“You have failed to perform sufficiently over the past two days, you have excreted bodily fluids on my paperwork, you have used company time and money to make personal phone calls, you have been eating and drinking my supplies, and you have been coming to work after having snorted opiates and imbibed alcohol.” She opened her mouth, her eyes wide. “I can smell it on you, so don’t try to deny it. Get out.”
She burst into tears, grabbed her purse, and ran out of the office.
“Leave your security card with the front desk,” he barked after her before the doors could close. She just cried louder.
As the elevator took her farther and farther away from him sensitive ears, he let out a long, content sigh. Finally, some peace and quiet. He knew better than to hope for excellence from the average Shinra employee. Hopefully the next secretary sent to him would be moderately competent.
Like a certain blond custodian.
. , . , .
Chocobo Crazy
Sephiroth sighed as he slipped onto his bike and started the engine, taking a moment to let the sound rumble through his ears and body, wiping everything clean. He’d decided he needed a night off, after suffering his secretary’s break down. Hopefully Shinra will have found him a replacement by tomorrow and he could get on with his work and the President’s annoying assignment.
Reaching into the pocket of his coat, he pulled out an elastic band and started braiding his hair over his left shoulder. He despised wearing his helmet, and putting his hair under his coat had always been uncomfortable, so he’d had to settle with the lesser of evils when he’d first gotten the bike.
Kicking up the stand, he sped off towards the garage door and punched in the passcode without looking. Ducking under the door, he breezed by the guard who let him through without bothering to check his ID. His bike and hair were rather distinct, after all, and any Shinra employee could recognize his face.
Speeding along the freeway, he took the long way home to get some air and enjoy the wind in hi s hair. If he had the time, he would have left Midgar altogether for a trip into the surrounding desert, but he really just wanted to eat some food, listen to some music, and go to bed.
Pulling up the drive way of his small home, he parked the motorcycle in the garage and went inside to the kitchen. Pulling the fridge open, he frowned at the sight of so little food. He had to go shopping again.
He hated shopping.
He would have hired someone to do it for him if he didn’t have to worry about getting poisoned.
Not everyone liked Shinra’s Silver General, after all.
Slipping out of his coat, he dumped it on the back of one of the kitchen chairs and took some wilting vegetables out of the fridge. Pulling out some rice for a stir fry, he wondered how much of the vegetables he could salvage.
Twenty minutes later found him eating at the kitchen table, quiet music playing in the living room and a Wutaian book of poetry next to his plate. He ate quickly but carefully, unwilling to damage one of the books he’d brought back from Wutai. He’d never had the same appreciation of literature as Genesis, but Wutaian had always been more engaging and interesting for him to read and try to decode due to the multiple meanings of each character and the history of the development of the language itself. In addition to that, works from different time periods had different insinuations and implications depending on usage.
He was just taking a sip of tea and walking into the living room when a fist started banging on his front door. He frowned. He hadn’t heard the steps or the gate squeak. Carefully putting his book and tea down on the coffee table, he walked towards the door, checking quickly that his short sword was still nicely hidden on the bookshelf.
Opening the door, he stared mutely at the… woman who pushed past him into the room.
“Do you have any idea the kind of night I’ve had? Or has it been a day? Or days? I can’t even remember anymore.”
The voice was distinctly masculine, and Sephiroth caught sight of a mess of blond spikes as the maid pulled her hat off her- his head. The man-in-a-dress walked straight to his couch and fell down onto it with a groan and a sigh.
Sephiroth followed him and stared down at him, wondering how in the world the custodian knew where he lived. Had Zack let it slip for some reason? From his understanding, the two were rather close friends. Perhaps he had come here in lieu of Fair, since his Lieutenant was no longer in town?
“What, no concern for your friend at all?” the blond asked, yawning and curling up on his couch like he belonged there. His comfort in Sephiroth’s presence and home threw the man. The custodian hummed, nuzzling his face into one of the pillows on his couch. “I need new clothes and I think yours are probably gonna be too long in the legs. You’re too damned tall, Seph.”
The liberties this man was taking were beginning to annoy him. Only Zack could get away with calling him that. In spite of his annoyance, however, he couldn’t help but be a bit concerned. The blond looked as though he had run a marathon, his hair and face sweaty, cheeks flushed but skin pale with the evening chill. He placed a hand to the man’s forehead, to test if his recent behaviour was due to some sort of fever.
“Huh?” Sleepy blue eyes looked at him, but otherwise didn’t appeared to be concerned with his touch in the slightest. This intrigued Sephiroth. When last the General had invaded the blond’s space and touched him, his presence had been thoroughly rejected.
And now he looked… comfortable. Content.
“You do not appear to be ill. And why are you in a maid’s uniform?” he couldn’t help but ask, eyeing the rather feminine form before him. If he hadn’t known better, he would have automatically assumed the blond was a woman.
But the blond just let out a tired sigh, looking absolutely exhausted as he looked up at Sephiroth as though the General was the answer to all his problems. “You wouldn’t believe the night I’ve had,” he said with dejection, his pout reminding Sephiroth of Zack begging for chocolate.
But while the rather eerily familiar pout could be explained by close contact, he still couldn’t fathom why Zack would have told Strife where he lived. Or why he could smell a faint tang of blood and mako.
“Strife, how do you know where I live?”
The other questions could come later.
The blond froze and stared at him for a long moment before he blinked and started to stare off into space, eyes cloudy and face slack.
Sephiroth frowned. That was certainly not the reaction he was expecting. Snapping his fingers in front of blue eyes, his frowned deepened when the blond remained unresponsive.
And then his eyes rolled up in his head and he passed out on Sephiroth’s couch.
The General raised a thumb and forefinger to the bridge of his nose, trying to stave off the headache.
Perhaps Zack was right when he said ‘sometimes you just have a shitty week.’
Sitting down on the coffee table, he picked up his tea and started to sip at it, book of poetry puzzles forgotten in lieu of the man before him. What had caused him to pass out? Exhaustion? And why could Sephiroth smell blood and mako on him?
And why was he dressed in a maid outfit?
Sighing, he put down his cup and walked to his bedroom in search of some clothes that would fit. Hm… Zack had forgotten some clothes at his place over the months of movie nights. Perhaps those articles would be more suitable in size.
Pulling them out of the bag in his closet, he shook out the wrinkles and examined them critically. He’d washed them, but they’d been in the closet for so long they smelled a bit funny. Shrugging, he walked back to the living room and started stripping the blond.
After he’d finished, and the abominable maid outfit was put in the trash, he stared at sleeping face of his guest. Frowned slightly when he caught sight of a slight discolouration on his face. Pulling the blond’s head closer to him and into the light coming from the kitchen, he frowned at what was the beginning of a bruise forming on the man’s cheek. Running his finger over the damage, he noted the slight swelling and purpling hue.
He hadn’t noticed before, as the blond had been quite flushed, but now it was fairly obvious he’d been punched in the face, likely within the past few hours.
His mind flashed back to what the blond had said upon arriving at his apartment. What exactly had happened in the past two days since he’d seen this man? His critical eyes easily picked up how chapped his lips were, a clear sign of dehydration, and the smell of blood was now rather alarming than confusing.
But the blond had no wounds. The smell was probably heaviest on his right thigh, almost as though he’d been wounded and then healed with a localized Cure spell. But then, his entire body stank of mako traces. Almost as though he had…
Sweat it out.
Running a finger along the man’s collar bone, he brought the lingering moisture to his nose and sniffed.
Yes, a rather low concentration, but mako nonetheless. Had the blond been doing recreational drugs? Sephiroth was aware that some more recent drug concoctions could include mako, but there was no way that a custodian could afford that kind of addiction. Even a hit would have cost a fortune.
Mako in the bloodstream… In addition to his already unstable personality, and his sudden loss of consciousness, it was rather alarming.
There was no way this was as simple as he’d first assumed.
Making the decision, he pulled out his PHS and called the number he usually painstakingly avoided at all costs.
Click. “Hurry up, I’m busy.”
“Professor Hojo.”
“Ah, Sephiroth. You called me? This is a truly rare occasion.”
“Yes. There are extenuating circumstances.”
A scoff. “What have you gotten yourself into, then?”
“There is a man at my home. He passed out after abnormal behaviour, and he’s sweating mako.”
“Oh dear. Sephiroth, what did I tell you about unprotected sex with someone who is not enhanced?”
The General felt a flash of annoyance at the scientist’s assumption, but suppressed it. “We did not engage in sexual activities. He is… an acquaintance. Before he could explain what had happened to him tonight, he fell unconscious. I am concerned because in addition to the mako, I smell traces of blood. He may have been injured recently.”
“Hmm… Is he rather pale?”
“Yes.”
“And I suppose you’d like me to help, then.”
“I would appreciate if you discover what is wrong with him and aid in his recovery.”
A laugh. “Ah, but no favour comes free, Sephiroth.” He hummed thoughtfully, and Sephiroth wanted nothing more than to punch him in the face. “You will come for an additional battery of tests this month, on top of your usual appointment. Of your own free will, with absolutely no complaints.”
Sephiroth grimaced, since there was no one there to see it. “Very well. However, the usual rules apply.”
“Yes, yes. No damaging the General or impeding his work, etc, etc.”
“And it must wait until a week from today. I have a project that must be completed, and your… tests would interfere with my efficiency.”
“Yes, yes, you’re all about efficiency.” The scientist sounded too smug about the whole thing. “Bring him by, then. I’m in my usual lab. I’ll have a station set up for him upon your arrival.”
“Thank you,” Sephiroth forced himself to say before hanging up, knowing that if he stayed on the line Hojo would use the opportunity to harass him further.
Scowling, he shoved his PHS back in his pocket and pulled his coat off the chair in the kitchen, slipping into it with practiced ease. His hair, which hadn’t bothered to unbraid yet, he tossed over his shoulder before reaching down for the blond on his couch and lifting him into his arms.
Riding to Shinra was going to be awkward, to say the least.
. , . , .
Sephiroth brought the bike to a stop in his usual parking spot, pushing the curious and knowing look the guard at the gate had given him out of his mind. Turning off the engine, he kicked out the stand and gently leaned the bike over until it was balanced. The blond, who had begun to slide off with the movement, he caught in his arms before picking him up and carrying him over to the elevator. Instead of pressing the usual floor, he swiped his card on the reader on the inside and punched in a short code.
With a jerk, the elevator began to descend into the basement of Shinra, an area few visited, let alone knew of. SOLDIER being the exception.
Hojo was one of the only ones qualified for the mako enhancement procedures, after all. While one of his assistants could administer the mako, the quantity of the injected substance was all worked out by Hojo in advance in relation to sensitivity, absorption rate, resistance, and body weight.
The elevator came to a stop on one of the lower basement levels, and Sephiroth took a steadying breath before he walked through the doors into a well-lit hallway. Making his way to the end of the hall, he slipped into Hojo’s main laboratory.
The scent of blood, mako, bodily fluids, and disinfectant hit his nose hard and would have made him sneeze if he hadn’t long since learned to control his enhanced senses.
“Ah, there you are. I was beginning to wonder if you’d driven off the side of the road,” the scientist muttered moodily, gesturing impatiently at the table as he busied himself with his machinery.
Sephiroth warily set down the blond’s still-unconscious body on the metal table, uncomfortably aware of the fact that something had probably been dissected and left to die on it that week, if not within the day.
Hojo waved him away and pulled back Strife’s eyelids, flashing his penlight into each pupil to watch dilation. “Hmm… well, he’s not concussed.” He pulled up the blond’s shirt and swabbed his belly button before also swabbing under his arm. “Sephiroth, you know how to check his blood pressure and take blood, yes? Take care of that for me while I test for mako.”
And without another word, the scientist walked over to another part of the lab.
Sephiroth did as instructed, having been taught both procedures by Hojo when he was quite young. The scientist had insisted on turning anything he possibly could into a lesson, and Sephiroth’s memory had never let him forget.
Hojo was back just as he finished taking blood, an interested expression on his face.
Sephiroth’s eyes narrowed slightly. An interested Hojo was never a good thing.
“Blood pressure?”
“76/42.”
“Hm. Sweat contains traces of mako. I’ll have to do a full work up to see what he’s been drugged with.” The scientist grimaced. “It’ll take a while to do the tests, and then compare the results to known chemical compositions in the database for a match. How long ago did he fall unconscious?”
“Thirty-eight minutes.”
The scientist hummed and collected the blood. “You said he showed signs of abnormal behaviour? Hook him up to an IV and the EEG while I do the blood work.”
Sephiroth once again did as asked, with both efficiency and care. Still, Strife showed no signs of waking.
After his tasks were taken care of, he pulled up a chair and sat down, knowing he was in for a bit of a wait.
What he wasn’t expecting was four Turks to come waltzing into Hojo’s lab like they owned the place. Narrowing his eyes, he brought himself to his full height and crossed his arms over his chest. He wasn’t going for his sword yet, but he had no compunctions drawing it if a… demonstration was required.
“Sephiroth,” Veld greeted neutrally, his eyes skimming over the form on the table before returning to sharp, green eyes. “You have something of ours.”
The General raised an eyebrow and stared down the Turk without moving from his place in front of Strife’s body.
Brown eyes narrowed at him slightly. “Step aside,” he demanded, voice sharp and cool.
“No,” Sephiroth stared the Turk down, expression cool as ice and as unmoving as a glacier. “You will explain to me how this janitor came to me in his present condition,” he ordered, words crisp and demanding. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Hojo watching from the doorway of the blood work lab.
Brown eyes deadened and turned to a professional, polished stone. “I’m afraid that that’s Turk business.”
Sephiroth looked over each of the Turks in turn and paused when Tseng met his eyes. Their recent conversation came back to mind, and his brain immediately made the connection with Strife’s voiced concerns concerning the Turks. “Is he a spy or are you trying to recruit him?” he demanded simply.
None of the Turks showed a visible reaction, their training much too thorough for that, but Sephiroth could easily hear their heart rates rise and their breathing pick up pace slightly. His eyes narrowed when they refused to say a word.
“Well you can’t take him until you’ve explained the situation. I’ve offered this man an opportunity to try out for SOLDIER once more, having witnessed abilities and traits that would be well-suited to my program.” The stress he put on ‘my’ was slight, but he knew the more experienced Turks would pick it up easily enough. He met Veld’s eyes flatly.
“And why do you care for one lowly janitor, Sephiroth?”
The General just raised an eyebrow. “I’d ask you the same.”
They stared each other down. “He’s our jurisdiction. We’ve taken him into custody, and you are interfering in a Turk investigation, Sephiroth.”
The silver-haired man just snorted, unimpressed with Veld’s grand standing. They both knew who could kill the other in less than a second flat. “I could care less whose jurisdiction he’s apparently under. You will explain, or you will leave.” He smirked slighty, glancing at the Professor. “This isn’t your domain, and you hold very little authority here.”
Hojo came out at that moment, the interested expression on his face from earlier having spread into a full out gleam in his eyes. “I’m afraid Sephiroth is right, boys. Currently he’s under my care as a medical professional, and you can hardly remove him from my custody in such a state. What did you dose him with? I’d rather not waste my time with a battery of unnecessary tests if the answer lies with you.”
Veld glanced at Hojo for a moment before eyeing the body lying on the table. “Truth serum 46-A. His reaction was… unexpected.”
“Hm? Do explain.”
Veld was silent. Hojo’s smile only widened further as he eyed the Turk like one of his specimens – that is, imagining what he could do to make it scream as he ‘played’ to his heart’s content.
The Turk held out longer than Sephiroth had originally given him credit for. “Upon injection of the standard dosage for an adolescent of his body size, he reacted violently, screaming at some stimulus we were not privy to. Afterwards, he fell into a dazed, almost comatose state before abruptly snapping to lucidity again. Only… he wasn’t the same person we’d been questioning earlier, nor was he behaving the same as a Turk had previously observed. He also failed to remember events that had taken place only days prior, and seemed to think he was heterosexual when we have confirmed the opposite.” He paused, eyes flickering to Sephiroth and the blond before returning to Hojo’s interested visage. “He also displayed signs of SOLDIER treatments. Such as the glowing eyes and inhuman strength.”
Hojo clapped, startling some of the Turks and Sephiroth himself, though the latter didn’t show it. The grin on his face now was truly a sight. “Ohoooh! Truly interesting, truly interesting. Glowing eyes and strength… how did he display this strength? To what extent? And to what degree were the eyes glowing?”
The Turks behind Veld shifted slightly under Hojo’s obvious… enthusiasm.
“The glow was faint, almost unnoticeable. As for strength… he broke a pair of steel handcuffs and ripped a metal chair off the floor. It was… bolted down.”
Hojo hummed thoughtfully to himself, going over to Strife and pulling back his eyelid again. “Fascinating. What an… interesting specimen.”
The blond sat up like a shot, eyes open and dilated as he reached for Hojo’s neck to snap it faster than the Turks could move.
Fortunately for the scientist, Sephiroth was faster. He caught the blond’s arms and barked at Hojo to move away as he restrained the flailing, homicidal blond.
A foot kicked him in the face, but Sephiroth merely jumped onto the table in answer and straddled him, hooking his heels into the bottom of the table to lock his hips in place over the blond’s legs. His hands pinned Strife’s wrists next to his shoulders to prevent him from headbutting him in the face. In spite of his restraints, the blond continued to thrash and pull and resist in terror, straining his muscles and ligaments.
“Sephiroth, shall I get a tranquilizer?”
The General grunted as a particularly strong thrust against his hips rubbed against his crotch. The automatic bodily reaction to harden was inconvenient, if not embarrassing given the circumstances. “If we knock him out, we’ll have no idea of his mental state,” he said simply, bending closer to Cloud to look in his terrified blue eyes.
“Strife. You need to calm down.”
The blond just keened, his terror increasing with the sound of Sephiroth’s voice. The General frowned and pondered the best way to bring him back to his senses.
“Any suggestions?” he asked the room, annoyed.
No body said anything for a moment until the redheaded Turk muttered something under his breath to the bald Turk. “Maybe a kiss’d bring sleeping psycho out of his crazy.”
Sephiroth considered his options. Words had done nothing. Why not give it a try? The blond had come across as a rather sexual man. Perhaps some familiarity would snap him out of it.
So without further ado, Sephiroth used his speed and strength to manoeuvre his mouth onto the blond’s, open in a scream. For a moment, the man continued to thrash underneath him, but eventually he froze, mouth slackening as Sephiroth pushed his way inside and used his tongue in a way he hadn’t needed to for quite some years.
. , . , .
Floating… he was floating in a green place… it reminded him of- what did it remind him of? He couldn’t…
Burning…
He fell… He remembered falling. Falling into something green, something warm, some-
No… the green burned, ripped at his insides and lit him on fire and-
Peace. A profound… quiet. But… shadows in the water-
Tanks. He remembered the green tanks, and…
A white light. Warmth, shifting, changing-
Green green green and… there was another, and such pain oh the pain as knives cut and water burned and his body ripped and tore and-
“Fascinating. What an… interesting specimen.”
The voice cut through the dark and he remembered oh he remembered the pain and knives and the green tanks of burning mako and all because of-
HOJO!
He sprung upright, diving for the neck of the man who had caused him such pain, such agony, the deaths of so many and the curdling of the Planet and all that was good and-
Strong hands caught him and pulled him away as a familiar voice barked out words he couldn’t understand but he knew that voice and the pain it had- and the fire the fire burned- a rock meteor flying down from the sky and-
He screamed and thrashed, but he couldn’t pull away from the stronger man, his strength had been stolen, taken from him and left him powerless and weak before the killer of worlds- He heard Hojo’s voice again and he needed he needed to kill him and rend him and rip apart his soul until there was nothing-
The voice of terrors spoke again, but he thrashed and tried to get away, get at Hojo and kill him and run away from silver hair and green eyes and flame and- but he couldn’t move pinned completely unable to kill- run- kill- scream-
Something covered his mouth, trying to silence him. He screamed louder and tried to bite, but the hard contact softened and warmed and moulded to him, his lips and his body until the warmth was chasing away the dark place and covering him and protecting him and shielding him from the bright white lights and fire and grounded him taking him away from the floating place of pain and warmth and confusion-
A wet and slick heat slipped inside his mouth and he let it draw him in, tangling with his tongue and licking at his hard palate as though it could eat him from the inside, and god he was sucking on his tongue and thrusting into his mouth in such a sexual way and- He gasped and arched into the body holding him down, grinding their hips and hardening lengths together aggressively as he pulled that tongue into his mouth and sucked it down as though it were his cock and he could swallow him whole and- he pushed back, tilting his head for a better angle and bit those petal soft lips as they tried to withdraw.
He strained against his bonds to take the upper hand, but the man upon him didn’t budge an inch and he growled as his head was forced back and that body began to finally respond as he undulated against it, the mouth that before had drawn him in now forcing him back and plundering and holding him down and-
Cloud ripped his head away with a gasp and a low growl. “I don’t care how hot you look in leather, asshole, but I don’t do bottom. So either roll us the fuck over, or get off.” The scent of leather and expensive sword oil and a distinct scent of vanilla were permeating his nose and driving him crazy with lust as he turned his head to look at the man who had been so wonderfully tongue fucking him just a moment earlier.
Green, slit eyes met his own. Cloud stared, reality jarring him slightly like Fenrir bucking him after hitting a nasty pothole. He tumbled ass over teakettle as he stared into green eyes with pupils blown with desire and an inner fire burning in them that he had never seen before in memories of icy green shards and a cruel smirk.
Blue eyes raked over Sephiroth’s flushed visage, noting the slight panting of his breaths and a faint hue of colour in high cheeks as silver lashes fluttered over those green orbs that were slowly filling with confusion, surprise, and heat.
“Welcome back, Blondie! Lookin’ hot as ever.”
Cloud turned his head to the left and caught sight of Reno. Memories came rushing back with a vengeance, and his mouth opened as rage ripped and- “RENO! You fuckin’ dragon-raping gutter whore of an ASSWIPE!! When I get free from this motherfucker I’m gonna shove toothpicks up yer ass ‘til yer shittin’ gray matter!” He strained against the larger man holding him down. “Lemme at ‘im!”
The Turks stared at him dumbfounded expressions and Reno hid behind Rude with a cross between a grimace and a sheepish grin. “Hey! I had orders, man!”
“Doesn’t change the fact that I’m going to feed you to a Nibel Dragon for your- for your- ARG!!” He bucked against Sephiroth’s iron grip.
“Shall I get a tranquilizer now, Sephiroth? Or are you enjoying this?”
Cloud’s head whipped around to the right and he caught sight of Hojo. “Come any where near me with a fuckin’ needle and you’ll be shittin’ shrapnel and mako for weeks!”
Hojo just raised an eyebrow and continued to grin, those slimy eyes watching him and Sephiroth with a glint that made Cloud’s hair crawl.
“Strife. Calm down,” Sephiroth ordered, pressing down with his body to emphasize the fact that Cloud wasn’t going anywhere.
The hard, warm body almost distracted him for a moment, but the blond forced himself to take a deep breath and calm his fury at the whole situation he’d fallen into. He needed a clear head if he was going to fix this. How the fuck had he gotten into Hojo’s lab? What had happened after- he remembered a knife. Tseng stabbed him in the thigh, ignored Cloud’s insistence that Sephiroth would take him in SOLDIER, and then there was-
A syringe. Truth serum. Laced with mako. He remembered that, but…
He couldn’t remember anything after that.
“-ife. Strife. Cloud.”
The blond snapped out of his daze of memory and focused on the man still pinning him to the steel table he’d found himself lying on. “Huh?” he grunted intelligently.
The General frowned down at him. “Report.”
Memories drawn to the surface after having been buried beneath mako-induced fog for years crashed to the surface. “Sir! Engaged Turk Reno in a sexual encounter on Monday night, after which I woke in Turk custody for the purpose of interrogation and possible recruitment. During the interrogation I was questioned concerning the trip I made to the slums to purchase your coffee, General, as they suspect me of being a Wutaian spy or plant. When I refused to cooperate they turned to physical torture. Shortly after, Turk Veld injected me with a mako-laced truth serum.”
Sephiroth was looking down at him expectantly. “And?”
“That’s all I remember, General.”
Green eyes narrowed. “You do not remember coming to my home?”
Cloud stared. “I know where you live?” He cast a line out into the memories and pulled back a quaint looking house with a large yard and a nice rock garden out front. “Huh. I know where you live.”
The General hummed thoughtfully before sliding off Cloud with inhuman grace and turning all of that intense attention on Veld. “You said that after you injected Strife with TS 46-A he screamed and seemed to become a new person? In what way.”
The Turks looked amongst themselves. Reno caught Veld’s eyebrow and raised an eyebrow. The Head of the Turks nodded and the redhead stepped forward. “He… well, he kinda reminded me of Zack. Wouldn’t stop talking, straight as a ruler, friendly… not to mention his surge of unnatural strength.”
Cloud felt his insides freeze. Oh shit.
“The strength is easily explained away by the mako traces in the truth serum,” Hojo interjected, arms crossed thoughtfully over his chest as he eyed Cloud like he would a piece of meat. “Some subjects known to respond positively have received sudden bursts of strength after injection. I could do tests to verify, but it’s likely his mind is sensitive and his body responsive. This isn’t all that uncommon. Some subjects have been known to show mental instability or behave with sudden, explained violence. ”
Sephiroth’s expression was hard. “Will this prevent him from becoming a SOLDIER?” he demanded.
Hojo blinked before frowning in thought. “Shall I run the tests, then?”
“Yes.”
Cloud stared. “Wait a-“
“If you can’t become SOLDIER, Strife, then I have no jurisdiction over you and the Turks will do with you what they will,” he said simply, his arms crossed and his expression back to its usual blank lines. It was such a shocking difference when Cloud compared it to the heated, aroused expression the General had been wearing only a few minutes ago.
The memory made Cloud harden slightly in his pants.
“You do not have any jurisdiction over him right now, General,” Veld countered with an annoyed expression.
Sephiroth snorted. “You have no proof that he is a Wutai spy. I have seen no evidence of it, besides his unique taste for hama and Grenada.”
“We know he speaks Wutaian, General. Where did he learn that? There’s not a single person in Nibelheim who speaks it. We already checked.”
Ah shit.
Sephiroth scoffed, eyes hard as shards of ice. “And yet if you’re questioning the records of his own birth and childhood, shouldn’t you be questioning your source for that little piece of Intel? For all you know, the whole town could be a falsified little ghost town.”
That struck a little too close to home, if the tense lines of the Turks’ faces were any indication.
“Our Intel is good, General,” the Head Turk snapped.
Sephiroth raised a derisive eyebrow. “You’re shooting at ghosts and you know it, Veld, otherwise you would have presented a proper case by now. You have no real evidence, merely circumstantial word-of-mouth and odd happenstance.”
Cloud’s attention was pulled away from the argument happening in front of him by a softly cleared throat. When Cloud caught sight of Hojo standing a little ways away with an annoyed, expectant look on his face, he jumped off the table and backed away. “Shall we, gentleman?” he asked in that obnoxious, nasal voice of his.
“Strife. Do I have to hold you down or will you comply?”

Cloud glared at Sephiroth but slowly caved to his demands, inching his way back over to the metal table. He hated Hojo. He hated this whole situation. But if he couldn’t be a SOLDIER, he was Turk Turkey for Dinner. Hojo stuck the syringe filled with a tiny bit of mako into his arm as soon as he sat down on the metal. He hissed at the burning sensation that flooded through him.
In that moment of suspension when the mako spread through him, the memories raced back to him and drowned him under their onslaught and overpowering-
Arms wrapped themselves around his waist, holding him up, and he realized he’d fallen off a metal table. He blinked up at Sephiroth, completely bewildered.
“Seph! What’s up?” He looked around and spotted Hojo. “Hey, it’s the Professor! What am I doing in the labs?” He looked between Sephiroth and Hojo, confused.
A throat cleared. Zack turned around and blinked at the sight of- “Turk-dude!” Moving at SOLDIER speeds, he hid behind Sephiroth’s bulk. “Seph! These guys tried to anal probe me! Hide me!”
Silence.
The redhead snickered for a couple seconds before bursting into laughter. “You hear that Veld? You’ve been kicked out of the closet now!”
Dot-man wacked the redhead over the head with an exasperated sigh.
Sephiroth grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and dragged him out from behind him. Zack gave him his best pout at baring his soft underside to the wolves. His pal just continued to stare at him.
Zack wrinkled his nose. “Why you lookin’ at me like that, Seph?”
“…Lieutenant?”
He bounced. “Yup?”
But Sephiroth just continued to stare at him like he’d never seen him before, and then the creepy Professor came up to him and started prodding him. “Hey! Why are you poking me with the penlight of doom?”
Hojo’s eyes widened. “Fascinating. He seems to be able to mimic speech patterns in addition to knowing behavioural ones.”
Now Zack was starting to get weirded out.
Green eyes narrowed. “Strife?”
Zack blinked. “What about Spike? You’ve met him, Seph?”
“No, you are Strife.”
Zack laughed. “Ah, that’s funny, Seph. I’m a five foot little chocobo, mhmm.”
“No, you are.”
“Uh, no, I’m not.”
“Are.”
“Are not.”
“Are too.”
The Turks just stared.
Sephiroth let out a frustrated sound and grabbed the metal table, standing it upright and shoving Zack’s face in it. “See? Blond hair. Blue eyes. Strife.”
Zack tilted his head at his reflection. “Are you sniffing toner packages from the printers again, Seph? I see a gorgeous, black-haired, purple-eyed, masculine ass right there.” He winked at his reflection.
Sephiroth scowled, annoyed. Zack shrank and pouted, wilting as he looked around at the way everyone kept staring at him.
“How’d he snap out of it last time, General?”
The silver-haired man frowned. “I said his name and he passed out.”
Hojo hummed thoughtfully. “Perhaps it requires some physical exertion? His body might sweat the mako out again. The amount I injected wasn’t anywhere near a SOLDIER injection, so his body should be able to flush it out rather easily.”
Zack stumbled as he felt his energy level begin to drop. “Uh, Seph? The world looks all… spinning and spinny…”
. , . , .
Sephiroth caught Strife before he could hit the ground and gently set him on the table that he had righted once again. Hojo hovered over the blond’s body and began to run tests with machines that Sephiroth had seen him use many times before, but had never learned how to operate himself. The EEG was reattached, and the Professor checked it occasionally for a change in the reading.
The time it took Hojo to run the tests unfortunately gave Sephiroth time to think. Specifically about the events that had happened not very long ago, on the metal table that Strife currently lay on. Events that left him feeling slightly uncomfortable and tight in his pants.
He hadn’t been expecting that, when he’d kissed the blond. Usually it was wet, and neither pleasant nor unpleasant. It just… was kissing.
But then the man had started to… and it had almost felt like… and the way he’d started rubbing himself against Sephiroth had nearly shocked him into letting go, but he’d pushed through and to his surprise, he…
Hadn’t minded it.
Usually his partners were so tied up in the fact that he was The General. Or they were terrified. Or they wanted him to fuck them until they were raw. Or they wanted to fuck him until he was raw (which was impossible, he’d discovered). And none of these things had appealed to him, ever.
But the blond hadn’t known who he was, and the way he’d forced a response out of Sephiroth, almost like a challenge…
Why did the man keep-
“Interesting.”
Sephroth’s attention snapped to the present. “What?”
Hojo shot him an annoyed glance. Sephiroth didn’t so much as twitch. “Well, he won’t have any problems if he joins SOLDIER. His body is abnormally sensitive to mako, but his absorption rate is normal. I’d say his mental imbalance is a result of mako, rather than an allergic reaction to TS 46-A. You will likely have to place him under the watch of another SOLDIER during his injections, due to the bout of violence coming out of his hallucination, but other than that things appear normal.”
Sephiroth let a small relieved breath so small even the Turks wouldn’t have picked it up. “Very well.” He turned his attention to Veld and raised an eyebrow. If the Turk tried to claim jurisdiction again…
The Head Turk scowled. “This does not deal with the other matter at hand. He is still under suspicion of being a Wutai spy.”
Sephiroth resisted the urge to bash the Turk’s head into a wall. His mind efficiently raced through a list a viable options. “I will take him under personal surveillance, then,” he finally snapped, the idea taking form in his mind as he recalled all of the blond’s useful character traits. “I require a new secretary. He will make a suitable replacement until he passes the SOLDIER exams.”
Veld’s eyes widened in surprise. “Are you sure that’s wise, General? As your secretary, he would be made aware of classified information.”
The General snorted. “Any information that is truly classified never touches my secretary’s desk, as you well know. If any problems arise, I trust you will leave me to deal with them.”
He made it a statement of fact, not a question.
Veld’s eyes flashed, but he nodded the slightest bit before turning around and leading his group of Turks away. Sephiroth watched him go.
Ever since their conception the Turks had recruited and turned people towards their cause. Why they did it, Sephiroth had no idea. While some had been eventually turned to their side, their way of thinking, it was a far more difficult route than simply finding someone already interested, regardless of their apparent ‘ability.’
And if Cloud hadn’t eventually caved, he would have been disposed of just as easily as the Turks carried out their regular jobs. It would have been an egregious waste of talent and competence.
“I’ve finished the tests I require. Shall I wake him up myself, or would you like the honours?” Hojo asked, bored as he picked away at his machines.
Sephiroth eyed the blond contemplatively. It would be best to discover if his violence was the exception or the rule.
He shook the blond’s shoulder. Blue eyes snapped open, and when they landed on him Strife was off the table and across the lab in a period of time that any unenhanced human could be proud of.
“Sephiroth!” he shouted angrily, expression screwed up in a mixture of horror, pain, and desperation.
The rule, then. Appearing before the blond in a burst of speed, he calmly pinned the blond to the wall until those glassy eyes focused clearly and looked away from him, embarrassed.
“We seem to be finding ourselves in compromising positions quite often now, General.” Blue eyes turned back to his own and pierced him with their clarity of colour and sheer obscurity of meaning. When the blond looked at him, he didn’t see what everyone else saw, nor did he see what Zack saw, instead there was this strange tension and… something he couldn’t identify.
He hummed noncommittally, annoyed with the questions he still didn’t have answers to, and frowned slightly when he noticed his own increase in respiration and the slightest tightening in his pants.
“Indeed.”
-Toki Mirage-
OMG! I totally had a fangurl moment halfway through writing this when Reno, in the back of my head, makes the dumbest possible suggestion of life!! That little bastard never ceases to surprise me. XD That’s why I keep him around. It was so ridiculous I just had to run with it and commit it to the page. (Reno: What? Rutting on a steel table’s hot shit, man. Now, if only Blondie were screaming as Sephiroth pounded into his ass instead, that’d be smoking hot shit.)
I actually had this written a few days ago, but I needed to edit it and I’m at band camp right now. Face hurts! Hope it was worth the wait. Sorry about the evil cliffhanger. I usually try to avoid them with this piece…
CUT SCENE: ‘prove it’s Zack.’ This is an alternate scene that I wrote and ended up cutting. I’m sharing it with you for it’s entertainment value.
“…Lieutenant?”
He bounced. “Yup?”
But Sephiroth just continued to stare at him like he’d never seen him before, and then the creepy Professor came up to him and started prodding him. “Hey! Why are you poking me with the penlight of doom?”
Hojo’s eyes widened. “Fascinating. He seems to be able to mimic speech patterns in addition to knowing behavioural ones.”
Now Zack was starting to get weirded out.
“Zack. Pink bunny slippers.”
Everyone looked at the General in surprise and confusion, but Zack just blushed to his roots and coughed into his fist. “A-ah, pink bunny what?”
“I know you did it.”
“Did what, Sephy?”
Oh no. It was The Look. The Look of Doom. The Look that he got when all else in the world began to crumble around his ears.
“It wasn’t my fault I swear! Genesis made me do it! He told me if I didn’t he was going to replace all of Angeal’s underwear with pink lingerie and blame in on me, okay?! I’m innocent!!” He pulled out the Puppy Dog Eyes 2.0
Sephiroth was now staring at him with a look akin to shock, on the General’s face. Zack twitched nervously. The General pulled out his PHS and called a number.
“I know about the pink bunny slippers.”
Zack blinked. What? Who was he talking to?
Sephiroth waited. Then his eyes widened. “Lingerie, you say?” He nodded and muttered a dismissal, hanging up the PHS.
Green eyes narrowed. “Strife?”
Zack blinked. “What about Spike? You’ve met him, Seph?”
“No, you are Strife.”
Zack laughed. “Ah, that’s funny, Seph. I’m a five foot little chocobo, mhmm.”
“No, you are.”
“Uh, no, I’m not.”
“Are.”
“Are not.”
“Are too.”
The Turks just stared.
- 9
- 10
- 11
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The Little Guy