The Little Guy | By : TokiMirage Category: Final Fantasy VII > Yaoi - Male/Male > Cloud/Sephiroth Views: 2374 -:- 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. |
The Little Guy
. , . , .
Chapter Five:
Cloud hummed along to a wicked guitar riff as he squeegeed another window and wiped the liquid residue off the bottom of the frame with a rag. He’d finally gotten around to buying some songs for his PHS so he could have something to listen to at work. Since there was no one to see him with music on the weekends or demand he fix something, he didn’t consider it that unprofessional. Shinra ran by skeleton crew on days like these: Security Guards and Janitors Only club, sorry.
Scrubbing at a particularly stubborn bit of brown, he tried to not think about what substance had latched onto the window and hardened into a smear of-
Right. Not thinking about it.
Grabbing a pen off a nearby desk, he used the clip as a scraper and got the worst of it off before putting it back in its mooing coffee mug home.
Served them right for throwing shit at their windows. Bloody monkeys.
Finishing up with that window, he frowned when the window reflected a moving figure behind him. Spinning around in alarm, he stared and then frowned at the sight of Sephiroth…
Raiding the coffee?
Pulling out his earbuds, he dropped his squeegee in the bucket. “Hey General! What are you looking for?”
Sephiroth glanced at him before returning to the cupboards he was looking through. “Coffee.”
“What, have you run out?”
The General gave up his search with a mighty scowl. “Yes.” He turned to Cloud with an inscrutable expression on his face. “Why do all the other offices have different coffee?”
Cloud blinked. “Because they all think it tastes like charcoaled rat intestines, most likely.” To his surprise, the man raised his hand to his face and pressed onto his closed eyes with a thumb and forefinger. The blond frowned. He must be exhausted. “Why are you here on a weekend, anyway?”
Tired green eyes looked at him. “Project for the President.”
“Ah, right. I remember you mentioning that last time. And you’ve run out of coffee, hm… Don’t they have a surplus of those exact kinds of supplies somewhere in this building?”
“I already used the last box.”
Holy caffeine… how much coffee had Sephiroth been drinking? He must be pissing like a race horse. “And I take it they don’t get a shipment or something until Monday?”
“That is correct.”
Cloud grimaced. “And why can’t you drink the coffee that everyone else drinks?”
“It isn’t strong enough to have an effect on my metabolism.”
Oh right. Mako enhancement. Cloud frowned in thought, eyeing the absolutely miserable General. Well, as miserable as Sephiroth was capable of looking. The blond hadn’t had any problems with the coffee he usually bought, when he was enhanced.
His eyes widened in realization. The coffee he used to buy was a special import from Wutai mixed with a particularly flavourful bean he’d found when going through Cosmo Canyon. Both were known for their high caffeine content. He scratched his chin, frowning in thought. Was it even possible to get them in Midgar?
“I… may have a solution. But I’m not sure I can get the coffee in Midgar. I’d have to look around some.”
Green eyes snapped to him and stared for a long moment. “Could you? I would compensate you.”
Cloud hummed thoughtfully to himself. “Well, I don’t mind looking per se,” he’d in fact been procrastinating doing it himself because he didn’t want to waste five hours in the slums, “but technically I’m at work right now and the imports I’m thinking of aren’t exactly cheap. If you talked to my boss, and front the cash to buy it… I could try to find it for you.”
The General nodded and pulled out his wallet, fishing out a large wad of bills. “What is the name of your superior?”
“Well… Frank trained me, but I don’t actually think he’s the boss custodian, to be honest.” While it was pretty bad of him to think, Frank didn’t seem educated enough to be anyone’s superior.
Sephiroth looked into space for a moment. “Niel O’really. I will contact him and inform him that I have sent you on an errand during your shift. If he gives you any trouble, tell him to contact me.”
Cloud nodded, a little dazed as Sephiroth walked towards him and held out the wad of gil. “Do you own a vehicle?”
“Uh, no. I know how to drive a motorcycle, but technically I don’t have a license. I was planning on taking the train.”
Sephiroth frowned. “That will add a lot of time to your trip. You may take my motorcycle. However, if you crash it, I will have to eviscerate you. Come.”
Cloud’s eyes widened in shock as he left his bucket and squeegee and followed the billowing, silver hair. The General was going to lend him his bike? He must be desperate. Cloud wouldn’t let anyone touch Fenrir if his life depended on it.
They took the elevator down to the basement level and Sephiroth led him through a maze of expensive-looking vehicles before they finally arrived upon a gorgeous, silver and black bike that nearly gave Cloud a hard-on just looking at it.
He shivered. “Man. I would love to get my hands on that engine,” he murmured to himself, running a hand over the beautiful beast admiringly.
The General looked pleased, though still tired. “Here is the key. Ignition,” he pointed, “typical set up for clutch and hand break. Emergency foot break is here, and under no circumstances press the green button. The acceleration would be difficult for even SOLDIERs to handle. The key code for the garage door in and out is 7-4-6-2. Don’t get pulled over by the police.”
Cloud grinned. No way the police would be able to catch him.
Sephiroth opened a compartment below the back part of the seat and pulled out a helmet. When Cloud made a face, green eyes narrowed. “You will wear it.”
The blond sighed. “Well, when you say it like that it’s hard to say no,” he muttered, taking the helmet and putting it on.
Sephiroth handed over the key. “Don’t make me regret this. The last time I leant her to Zack, she came back scratched.”
“He what? I’m definitely dying all his underwear pink for that, damaging a beaut’ like this.” He was surprised Zack was alive. If he’d done that to Fenrir, he would have at least lost an arm.
Swinging himself onto the bike, he put the key in the ignition and checked he had Sephiroth’s money before starting her up. Grinning at the sound of the engine, he walked it backwards and admired the handling. It was well balanced. With the amount of working out he’d been doing, it was easy enough to control her. Not as easy as would have been enhanced, but he shouldn’t have any problems.
“See you soon, hopefully.”
“Wait. In case something happens, you should take my PHS number.”
Cloud blinked before taking it out of his pocket and handing it over. The General pulled out his own PHS and input numbers into both of them. He’d probably taken Cloud’s number as well, in case the blond ran off with his bike or something stupid.
“Drive carefully.”
Cloud grinned, slipping the PHS back into his pocket. “I always drive carefully.” Without another word, he input the code for the doors and floored the throttle. Ducking his head, he cleared the garage door before it had even opened all the way.
“ID please,” the security officer asked, sounding as bored as he looked. Cloud handed it over. The man looked at it dubiously for a moment before shrugging and handing it back, letting him out. Cloud floored the gas and slipped onto the road that he knew would lead to the freeway. Midgar had an area of eclectic shops in Sector 4 that he knew was worth looking at before he tried to go into the slums. Under the Plate wasn’t exactly known for its infrastructure, after all.
The drive only took ten minutes, thankfully, with liberal use of the freeways and weaving through slow-moving traffic. While he wasn’t going fast enough to get a police car after him, he was still going over the speed limit. Taking an exit into a part of town that downgraded to single-lane traffic and numerous, cramped buildings, he kept his eye out for a spices or exotic goods store.
Finally catching sight of one, he parked out front in a not entirely-legal spot just so he could keep his eye on the bike. The last thing he needed was some idiot hotwiring The General’s bike and making off with it.
Slipping into the smelly store, he made his way straight for the elderly Wutaian lady behind the counter. “I’m looking for two brands of coffee. Hama and Grenada from Cosmo Canyon,” he said in fluent Wutaian.
Her eyebrows rose in surprise, assessing him with a new, sharp glint in her eye. “Strong drink will keep you short, little chakuta.”
Cloud raised an eyebrow at what was considered an affectionate insult in the subtleties of Wutaian. It insulted by calling you a foreigner, someone who no matter what they imitated, could never be Wutaian, while also accepting that you had recognized Wutai as worthy of respect and proper learning. The language had many such subtleties that you couldn’t pick up unless you had actually immersed yourself in the culture. “It is not for myself, it is a gift for a friend.” This particular definition of friend could also mean ‘rival.’
She nodded. “Hama is not very common. Few of the homeland will drink it for its strong, unique flavour. You will have to go below Plate to see Shan-tu. I do however have Grenada. It is well liked among the high swill of Midgar.” It took Cloud a moment to realize that the direct translation of ‘high swill’ actually meant the upper class of society.
“I thank you for your assistance,” Cloud said, giving a traditional bow with his right hand fisted and the left open. She gave him another surprised look before executing the traditional shop-keeper to customer version of the bow. “I will take your largest container.”
She nodded and slipped into the back. Cloud glanced out the window to see the bike was still in place and undamaged. She came back a moment later with a large tin and a handful of small bags. “How many?” she asked, holding up the bags.
Cloud thought about how much coffee Sephiroth seemed to consume. “Five.”
Her eyes widened before she nodded and started filling them without a word. It took a good five minutes to shovel the bags full, and by the time she was done the tin was almost empty.
“Could you please tie them wukan?” he asked. It was a style of arranging large packages with twine to carry on your back short distances, a common method of transporting shopping goods in Wutai if you had large amounts that couldn’t be easily stored in a few hand baskets and you didn’t happen to have a back basket.
She nodded and tied them efficiently together in less than a minute. Cloud slipped the stacked packages onto his back. “How much?”
“40 gil.”
Cloud raised an eyebrow and handed over the money. He had no doubt that if he hadn’t spoken to her in Wutaian it would have been double that.
She bowed. “Thank you for your business,” she said, giving the traditional Wutai thanks.
Cloud returned her bow. “Where may I find Shan-tu for some hama?”
“Sector five below Plate. Go down the main street, turn left at the Green Dragon, turn right at a golden star. He hangs blue lanterns outside his door.”
The blond thanked her and left. Seeing a couple shady characters standing to the side eyeing his bike, he shot them a glare before climbing on and turning the ignition. Revving the engine, he shot out of there at speeds that probably would have gotten him in trouble with the police. However, the last thing he wanted was a few gang members following him to ‘relieve’ him of his machine.
He got back on the freeway to take the main entrance into the Sector 5 slums. He had to pay a fee at the gate to go down, but he knew it was far cheaper than what he would have to pay to get out. Making his way down the main road, he was suddenly glad that Sephiroth’s bike made so much noise as the pedestrians swiftly moved out of his way. Following the directions the elder Wutaian lady had given him, he was led into a narrower street system made almost entirely out of Wutaian shops. Stopping in front of the blue lanterns, he parked the bike and went inside the store.
His eyebrows rose at the sight of a collection of Wutaian blades as well as other miscellaneous equipment. It seemed odd that hama would be sold here.
Though, it was considered that only the warriors with the strongest stomachs and taste buds endured hama.
A short, elderly Wutaian man came out from behind a traditional cloth painted with a god of good business fortune.
“How can help?” he grumbled, eyeing Cloud up and down.
The blond took off his helmet upon seeing a green, decorated belt wrapped around his waist. He bowed the bow of lesser student to a master. “Greetings master warrior, I have come in search of hama.”
Two furrowed eyebrows rose in surprise, creating even more wrinkles on an old face. “You? Hama? It would melt your weak white stomach upon a sip. What need have you of hama?”
Cloud kept his face neutral. The old geezer was being rather disrespectful, but considering how racist Wutaians could be, at least he hadn’t beaten the blond out of his shop with a broom. “It is for a warrior rival. A gift.”
Gifts were viewed very highly in Wutaian culture, amongst friends and even more highly amongst enemies. There was a whole sub language of insults or respect that could be implied through a choice of gift.
“Ah. Gift.” Without another word, he went into the back and returned with a small bag of hama.
Cloud wondered how much he could push his luck. “I will take ten.”
Two eyebrows rose before the elder grinned roguishly and left. When he came back, it was with a large bamboo barrel. “100 gil.”
Cloud handed over the money, since he needed to ingratiate himself to the elder man before he could start developing a business relationship and haggle the price lower. It was completely different than haggling with other Midgar business owners. If you were looking for a temporary customer-business owner relationship, it wasn’t against the rules to haggle, but if you wanted long term deals and more positive dealings, you had to be patient in cultivating a ‘friendship’ of sorts.
Besides, it wasn’t his money.
Without a word, the old man spun him around and started tying it to his back along with the other coffee packages. After he was done, Cloud gave a respectful bow and left, knowing he was being insulted by how shallow the returning bow was, but choosing not to care.
When he left the entrance, his eyes narrowed at the sight of three men pawing at Sephiroth’s bike and obviously trying to hotwire it.
“EH! Dirty thieves of a gutter whore! You insult your father’s honour!” Cloud barked angrily, startling the three adolescent men enough that one of them actually tripped taking a step back and fell over.
The guy who had been interrupted trying to get the appropriate panel off the bike glared at him.
“Eh? The white trash can speak! Well this bike is ours now, pale spawn of a horse and a rat. Unless you want to fight for it?”
Cloud raised an eyebrow as the punk pulled out a deadly looking dagger. “Fight? You would spend more time in the dirt than on your feet.”
The guy who had been circling around him on the left came at him with a shout. Cloud stepped out of the way and pushed him with an open hand, using his momentum against him. Stepping towards the bike, he deposited the helmet on the handle bars and spun away from the slash of the dagger, taking the fight away from the bike and farther into the street. Various shop owners and customers stood on the sidelines, watching the fight with blank expressions. Cloud knew that they would never interfere on behalf of a foreigner and paid them little mind.
Using the skills learned from Wutaian masters during his training holiday with Yuffie, he danced around his enemies using his open hands and arms to direct their own force and momentum against them. Aikido had been the only form the Wutaian masters had been willing to teach him upon witnessing the physical force he could use against his opponents during training. Since they didn’t want any accidental deaths, they had picked a style that focused on balance, recovery, and manipulation of your enemy.
Cloud had to admit he enjoyed the amount of throws the styles utilized, sending the street punks flying every time they attacked with hip throws, head throws… The guy that had tried to sneak up on him was the first to go down, as he had obviously little real training. He couldn’t even fall properly, which was deadly in Aikido since each throw depended on the impact of the thrown body to do the most damage.
Catching a wrist outstretched to stab him in the stomach, Cloud stepped out of the way, pulling the arm at the same time he caught the side of the boy’s neck with his hand and spun him around in a head throw that had him rolling five feet into the side of a building. The blade spun away.
Seeing the leader go down and not get back up, the only guy left standing grimaced and backed away.
Cloud took his chance. “The next time you gutter thieves touch what is mine, I will break your hands instead of toss you around.” The version of ‘toss you around’ he used was exactly the same way masters talked about beating the shit out of their students, so it was insulting on more than one level.
Walking over to his bike, he checked that his packages were still undamaged and attached. Catching sight of the master he had bought the hama from, he was surprised to receive a grudgingly respectful nod. Returning it, he slipped his helmet on and tied it, giving the bike a cursory check for damage.
Thankfully, nothing was scratched. They had probably been planning to sell it rather than use it as a ride. Damaged goods didn’t get you as much money, after all.
Slipping the key into the ignition, he took off with thorough abuse of the throttle.
. , . , .
There was a new security guard at the gate when he drove up. Upon seeing his janitor ID and the bike he was riding, he gave Cloud a hard enough time that the blond ended up just calling Sephiroth on his PHS.
Ring. “Why the hell would I return to Shinra – click – if I had stolen The General’s fucking bike, you imbecile?” Speaking into the receiver, he said, “General, could you please tell this security guard he is an imbecile and to let me through the gate already with your damned coffee?” Without waiting for a response, he held the PHS out to the guard. “Here. He wants to talk to you.”
The guard now had a wary expression on his face as he took the device and held it to his ear. “Hello?”
After a few moments, his face had turned so pale it was almost gray. With a shaky “Y-yes, sir, General, sir,” he handed back the PHS and the blond’s ID before opening the gate. “You’re clear, Mr. Strife, sir.”
Cloud raised an eyebrow at the ‘sir’ and shrugged it off as a result of being subjected to Sephiroth in a bad, coffee-deprived mood. “Thanks.” Shoving the ID and PHS in his pocket, he gunned the throttle and made his way towards the garage. Punching in the code from muscle memory, he slid the bike sideways in his irritation at another delay and slid under the barely-open garage door. Manoeuvring the bike upright again, he drove it to its parking spot and kicked out the bike stand. Pulling off the helmet, he put it in the seat-compartment Sephiroth had removed it from and took the keys out of the ignition. He slipped them in his pocket as he headed towards the elevator doors.
Only to stare futilely at the keycard reader for the executive elevator that required an executive’s keycard. Something he did not possess.
Thankfully, the doors swung open a moment later and Cloud opened his mouth to thank his silver-haired saviour.
Only, it wasn’t Sephiroth at all.
The redhead blinked. “Yo. Whachu doin’ in here, blondie?”
Cloud stared at the familiar red hair and tattooed cheeks. “I was sent on an errand for the desperately coffee-deprived,” he said, walking into the elevator like he did this every day.
The Turk frowned and hit the ‘doors open’ button. “Really. And who sent you on this errand?”
Cloud held up Sephiroth’s bike keys. “The General.”
Now the redhead looked even more dubious. “Oh really.” He hit the ‘doors closed’ button. “Well, then I’m sure you won’t mind me escorting you to the General, then.”
The blond shrugged. “Knock yourself out.” Hitting the button labelled ‘20’, he tried to lean against the wall before realizing that he still had a bunch of packages on his back. Damnit. Reno had thrown him.
They stood in awkward silence for the minute it took the elevator to reach the 20th floor. After that, they left and made their way to the second executive’s elevator. Reno swiped his card to get them into that one, holding out an arm all gentleman-like to Cloud.
The blond ignored the subtle insult and stepped inside. He had to face it. A Shinra custodian outfit was about the least intimidating piece of clothing on the Planet.
When they reached Sephiroth’s floor, the blond walked past the leather furniture peaked his head in the General’s office. He frowned in irritation when he saw that the General wasn’t even there. Pulling out his PHS, he hit redial and put the speaker to his ear.
Click.
“Sephiroth, where the hell are you? Do you want your damned coffee or not? I’m in your office and you’re not here. There’s a Turk here who thinks I’m a terrorist, so get your ass up here already.”
When the line was silent, Cloud ran what he’d said through his mind again and nearly swore out loud. Shit. He was totally off his game.
Gritting his teeth, he stubbornly muscled on. “Look, if you’re worried about your bike, she’s fine. Not a scratch. Handled smooth as a hooker from the Gold Saucer.”
Hearing a choked sound, his eyes inexorably swivelled to Reno, who was now watching him with a dropped jaw and eyes so wide there was a ring of white around the iris.
More silence. “Hello? Are you there or did the line drop?”
“I’m here.”
“And where in the building are you?”
“I’m currently getting back on the elevator.”
“Ah. We must have missed you on the 20th floor.”
“It appears so.”
“Alright then. I guess I’ll see you in a few.” He hung up and pocketed his phone, making his way over to the coffee machine. Might as well get shit organized while they waited. Expertly removing the tightly attached parcels, he placed them on the counter unit and unwrapped the rest of the twine. Opening all the cupboards, he tried to find a suitable container to put the hama in. The bamboo wouldn’t be a reliable seal once he opened it, and the last thing anyone needed was stale coffee.
Catching sight of a large, tall square tin, he pulled it out and opened it. The bottom was covered in small chocolates wrapped in silvery foil.
“Ooh, chocolate,” Reno said, apparently having decided to hover over the blond’s shoulder and watch him for suspicious activity. His hand reached in to grab some.
Cloud slapped his wrist. “Don’t touch, unless you want to lose a limb.”
“What? No one’ll notice.”
“The last time Zack stole from The Stash he nearly wound up in traction for a week.”
The Turk cleared his throat and wisely withdrew. “Must be some crazy secretary.”
Cloud didn’t disabuse him of his assumption that it was the psychotic secretary.
Dumping the chocolates into a basket filled with cutlery, he opened the bamboo barrel and dumped its contents into the metal tin. It filled almost all the way, a good fit over all. Thankfully, the Grenada was in convenient paper bags that could be opened and closed with the help of a long piece of metal sheathed in plastic.
At that moment, the elevator opened and the General stepped out.
“Turk,” Cloud heard Sephiroth greet Reno. The blond kept his attention on filling a new filter with two thirds Grenada and one third hama, the way he usually mixed it.
“General. I take it ya know this kid?”
Cloud’s eyes narrowed as he slid the filter-holder into the coffee machine.
“Indeed.”
“Alright then. I’ll… leave ya to it.” From the way Reno said it, he was obviously implying something sexual was going on between them. Sephiroth said nothing, either not catching it or not caring.
Cloud put the rinsed coffee pot in its place and pressed the ‘brew’ button. Reaching into his pocket as he turned around, he pulled out the keys and tossed them at Sephiroth.
The General caught them with ease and a raised eyebrow. “Any problems?”
The blond shrugged. If three wannabe Wutaians could be considered a problem. “Nothing I couldn’t handle.” Reaching in his other pocket, he pulled out the remainder of the money, a measly 60 gil, and handed it over as well.
Sephroth raised an eyebrow.
Cloud gestured to the tin and the paper packages. “This is hama, a Wutaian coffee that can melt the lining of your stomach if you’re not careful,” he said, putting the lid on the tin and sliding it into the cupboard. “This first batch cost 100 gil, but the next time I visit him I’ll be able to get a better deal, now that he knows my face.” And knows a bit more than that. Picking up the paper bag, he said, “This is Grenada. It’s a coffee grown near Cosmo Canyon. It has a really strong, almost repugnant flavour if you’re not used to it or it’s not your taste. I mix a filter two thirds Grenada and one third hama. This is a personal taste of mine, and you can adjust the balance however you like.” He put the paper packages next to the tin in the cupboard.
“Why do you mix them?”
Cloud stood up from his crouch and closed all the cupboards. “Hama is extremely bitter and harsh on the taste buds, as well as your stomach. Its sheer caffeine content has been known to give small animals cardiac arrest if consumed in large quantities.” He turned around and leaned against the counter, listening to the coffee machine do its thing as he met Sephiroth’s curious, green gaze. “When you mix it with Grenada, which is also high in caffeine content, the bitter taste is softened by rich flavour that has a much more pleasant aftertaste than hama. Personally, I find the combination much more appealing than the separate flavours.”
The General nodded thoughtfully and watched the coffee machine with hungry eyes. Cloud suppressed an amused twitch of his lips and turned his attention to finding some clean mugs. Pulling two out, he opened the fridge and pulled out the cream.
“What are you doing?” Sephiroth demanded, catching his wrist before he could pour cream into one of the mugs.
Cloud blinked and looked up at the General. “Look. I know what I’m doing. Just trust me. You won’t need nearly as much cream as you normally do, and if you don’t like the way I prepare it, then you can just add more. No harm, no foul. Okay?”
Green eyes stared at him for a long, assessing moment before the leather-sheathed hand released his wrist and the large man took a step back. Smiling slightly at the acceptance, he returned his attention to the mugs and poured two centimetres of cream into Sephiroth’s mug instead of the usual third of the cup. Grabbing the sugar bowl, he put three teaspoons of sugar into Sephiroth’s, and two into his own.
The coffee was just dripping now, so Cloud pulled out the coffee pot and poured it into each cup, stirring the non-cream one first, then the cream. Picking up Sephiroth’s hot cup by the side, he held it out the General handle-first.
Leather fingers snagged the cup out of his hand before it became too hot, and Cloud picked up his own mug and took a sip, sighing happily at the heavenly flavour. Drinking some more, he opened his eyes and raised an eyebrow at the sight of Sephiroth staring down at the cup with a dubious expression before he took a sip.
And another sip.
Blew on it, took a larger mouthful.
Cloud looked down at his own coffee, which was now half empty. It had tasted just the way he remembered. He looked up expectantly. “Well?”
The General gave him an amused look and smiled slightly. It was the smallest twitch of the corner of his mouth, but in Sephiroth-expressions it totally counted as a smile. “It’s certainly different.”
The blond rolled his eyes and stalked off with his cup. “Whatever. I’m going to go back to my squeegee, then. At least it appreciates my fine tastes and hard work.”
Before he could step away, though, Sephiroth grabbed him by the arm. Looking down at the offending limb, he frowned. “Uh…” He looked up at green eyes. “What?”
The General took another drink. “It’s good.”
Cloud stared at him. “Aaand?”
“I appreciate your fine tastes and hard work?”
The blond sighed. “You know, in the interests of your sex life, you should really ask Zack to coach you on the art of the compliment, because there’s a huge hole in your social education. Fail, man. Just, fail.” Irritated, he pulled his hand out of Sephiroth’s grasp and made his way over to the elevator. You insult the coffee, you insult his tastes, you insult Cloud.
Unfortunately, it appeared that the elevator was at the bottom of it’s rope, which was all Reno’s fault, thank you very much, so he was forced to stand there and feel awkward instead of having the desired, dramatic exit.
And then Sephiroth had to go, grab him by the shoulder, and spin him around with a weird expression on his face. “Why are you angry?”
Cloud schooled his features into one of nonchalance. “I’m not angry.” No, anger didn’t even begin to cover the range of moods he was feeling. And it didn’t help that the motor bike riding and fight had raised his adrenaline and testosterone levels one bit.
“Then why are your pupils dilated and your heart rate accelerated, if you are not prepared for a fight?”
Cloud scowled. “There’s more than one cause of pupil dilation and increased heart rate,” he pointed out irritably.
Sephiroth was very suddenly in his space, nose only an inch away from his own and green eyes drilling into him. “Desire then?” he asked in a low tone.
The blond nearly went into cardiac arrest, eyes widening in shock. “What?!”
The larger man’s head tilted to the side, cascading hair sending a whiff of intoxicating smells into Clouds poor, unprepared nose. “Desire. It is another source of dilated pupils and accelerated heart rate.”
Damn the man for sounding as though he were relaying something from a text book. “Really? Well I’m sure there’s something else,” he argued, mind not exactly following his own logic at that moment.
The green eyed man had the gall to smirk slightly. “No. You do not fear me, so it is desire, or anger. So which is it… Cloud?”
The word Cloud echoed over and over again in the blond’s mind, a parody of a caress that a psychotic madman had used to taunt him years and years ago, triggering the memory oh the memory of that moment – “Good to see you… Cloud.” – and the pain – the sword sank into his shoulder with a smirk of sick pleasure – and the fear-
Cloud shoved Sephiroth away from him, dropping the coffee onto the beige carpet without a care as he needed to get away-
Sephiroth fell back, the same surprised expression on his face as when Cloud had killed him, again and again. Stepping backwards and away he fell into the opened elevator and slammed the close button with his fist. It closed before Sephiroth recovered and came after him.
Hitting a random number to get him out – need to get out – he pushed himself up against the corner of the elevator and buried his face in his knees, fingers sunk into his hair as he took deep, calming breaths, reminding himself that Sephiroth wasn’t crazy – yet – and he was just a custodian, no one Sephiroth would want to kill – yet – and Zack was still alive, and…
And he’d totally just freaked out in front of the General for no reason that anyone who wasn’t a time traveling saviour of the Planet would know.
Fuck.
-Toki Mirage-
This fic is going to be the death of me. It is currently 0512, and I am tired.
For those who didn’t notice, chapter four is now a conjoined chapter of all Seph POVs written so far. So if you’ve already read the coffee machine bit, just skip over it.
For some reason I can’t comprehend, this is the fifth night in a row I’ve updated this story. Or is that morning, since technically only chapter 3 was updated before 12 am… Uh, too much thinking. Hope you all enjoyed the chapter. It was fun to write. Everything Wutaian was fun to make up, too, so don’t believe a word of bullshit that is pouring out of my fingers. :P
Happy reading, yo
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