Archive of Our Own ^beta

Until recently, Cloud has always admired Sephiroth more than anyone.  Worshiped him, even.  Back home, he had begged his mother for pack after pack of Shinra trading cards, hoping to pull the shining prize.  The other cards had meant nothing to him, tossed in a pile on the table, but she had scrimped and saved to buy them.  When he had finally, finally gotten Sephiroth’s card, he had carried it with him for weeks, placing it under his pillow at night—secured in its plastic protector, of course.  

In the dark, he had dreamed of running his fingers through silken silver waves, of smiling up at Sephiroth and hearing that deep voice praising him: good job, Cloud.  You’re one of Shinra’s finest SOLDIERs!  

At least a few times back then, Cloud had woken up in a sticky tangle, slightly terrified that his mother might find him in such a state.  But the fear hadn’t stopped him from hurriedly touching himself, worried he would forget every detail of the amazing dream.  

The Shinra magazines at the general store always showed Sephiroth posing across their glossy pages with some new weapon or hair tonic or other, but it almost didn’t matter when his face was playing on a loop in Cloud’s head every single day.  Back then, Sephiroth had been everything to him: strong, fair, and kind.  (Not to mention utterly gorgeous.)

But now, Cloud barely has any time to think about Sephiroth at all.  Shinra is no joke!  Every night, he collapses into bed, running himself ragged from the drills, the workouts, the marching, and the lessons.  He tries to practice in his spare time, too, and while he can feel himself getting stronger, he is falling into the same patterns as back home: he’s alone.  

He stumbles his way through small talk about the weather and their schedule, but he still can’t find a place within the easy camaraderie that has developed in his recruitment class.  His roommates are always sneaking off for drinks, to watch the chocobo races on TV, or to take trips below the plate to get up to no good.  It all sounds amazing, and to Cloud’s surprise, they do invite him at first, but he trips over his words, managing only to grit out a “no, thanks” as politely as he can, kicking himself over and over. 

Eventually, they stop asking. 

He’s usually at the gym or reading about materia and monsters, definitely not thinking about Sephiroth, and hating himself more than a little for just being the same weirdo as always.

But it’s okay, or it will be.  It will pay off, and that thought is a comfort.  Training keeps him busy, but somehow, in the fleeting moments between all his efforts, he ends up finding a new object for his obsessions.  

After all, why does he have to belong in some group or fantasize about some man in a picture when there is a real-life hero right here in front of him?  

It starts in the worst way, with Cloud slamming right into the stranger on the way to his seat.  He takes one step around the corner and the contents of lunch tray go flying.  He finds himself covered in soup, cheeks burning with embarrassment, all while staring up at the most handsome grin he’d ever seen in his life. 

The other men in the line turn to watch, undoubtedly gossiping about him making a total fool of himself in front of a First Class.  

Fuck, he’s a First?  

Cloud gulps as he takes in the SOLDIER in his now-stained uniform, but he can’t move.  His ankle feels a little funny, and he’s sure this is what will get him fired.  Or at least getting assigned to cleaning toilets in the Tower for a year.  At least.

“Hey!” the SOLDIER says, leaning over him.  “You okay?”  The fluorescent lights ring his spiky black hair like a halo, and Cloud wonders for a moment if he’d actually died in some freak accident and gone to SOLDIER heaven. 

The man offers his black-gloved hand, and Cloud is a little too awestruck by the green shimmer in his eyes to remember to take it.  “Come on, trooper.  I got you.”

His fingers are like iron around Cloud’s wrists, and Cloud’s legs are jelly underneath him as the SOLDIER hauls him to his feet and blots him with a napkin.  “Gotta be careful or you’ll make a real mess.  What’s your name?  I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before.”

“Uh, sir, it’s—”

“No, none of that Shinra ‘sir’ crap.  Just call me Zack!”  His smile is so white that Cloud almost wants to look away.  His arms are corded with carefully developed muscle, and he’s close enough now that Cloud can smell the warm spice of his aftershave.  Cloud makes a mental note to take a whiff of every single bottle he can find in the shops, just so he can find it and take it home with him.  

“Okay, Zack.”  He rolls the name around in his mouth, unsure what to do with his hands as he stands before Zack.  He can already imagine himself saying the name over and over again, moaning it into his pillow alone in the dark.  Zack, Zack, Zack.  “I’m Cloud.  Sorry about your uniform.”

I want to rip his uniform off.  Wait, come on, don’t be a freak.

“Cloud, alright, nice to meet you!  Well, don’t worry about it.  It’s just soup.  Better than some flan guts or something, right?  That stuff definitely doesn’t wash out, believe me!”

Cloud supposes that’s true, but he feels his ears burning nonetheless.  Why is Zack being so nice about this?  Cloud has totally fucked up his day.  He wishes he could just disappear completely, but it feels like Zack’s glowing stare is piercing right through him.

And he’s still standing there, way too close for comfort.  There’s salad on the floor, soup on Zack’s shirt, and heat flaring in Cloud’s cheeks.  The whispers from the other men haven’t stopped.  And while Cloud’s always been big on personal space, it’s becoming clear that Zack doesn’t share that inclination.  

“Say, Cloud,” Zack chirps, squeezing Cloud’s shoulder, “how about we have lunch together?  I was just getting in line.”

Before he can protest that he can’t afford to pay for lunch again, Zack’s grip steers him away from the mess, as if it had never even happened.  He supposes someone else will clean it up, but Zack seems totally oblivious to it.  It’s someone else’s problem, and Zack is chattering in his ear, bumping into his hip as they slide down the line again.  

Looking at the soup nauseates him, but Zack is already telling the cafeteria workers what Cloud will have.  “Yep, get him some of the steak, rice, a bit of veggies, and the potatoes, obviously.  Oh, and you gotta have dessert.  Yes, the melon cake, please—the big slice at the end, don’t skimp.  And a glass of lemonade.  That looks good, right?  I am starving!”  

Cloud is starving too, or he would be if not for the knot in the pit of his stomach.  He knows he won’t be having a real dinner tonight with his budget, so he’d better savor this SOLDIER-sized meal.  For as wealthy as Shinra is, they certainly are cheap, he thinks, making their lowest-level employees pay for their own meals.  But if he makes friends with someone like Zack, then maybe he’ll move up.  

Two hundred hard-earned gil later, he’s seated across from Zack, surrounded by some Seconds and Thirds, staring down the mountain of food.  He’s the only one in the Public Security uniform, but Zack is chattering away as if they’ve been friends forever.  Cloud feels like he can barely make out the words, and the noise is like static.  The only thing in sharp focus is Zack’s face.  

Even across the table, Cloud can feel the heat radiating off of Zack’s sculpted body.  The Shinra magazines had said that SOLDIERs’ body temperatures were naturally much higher than unenhanced humans, but he had never felt it for himself.  Now, he finally knows it wasn’t just company propaganda.

“Anyway, I know you’re a long way from home, but shit happens.  Don’t feel bad about it.  Us country boys have to stick together!  Wait—you are a country boy, too, right?”

“Huh?  How can you tell?”

Zack is staring at him, slurping on his electrolyte drink.  “From the way you talk.  All these city guys don’t know what to listen for, but I do.  It’s kind of crazy here for us, don’t you think?”

“No kidding,” he grumbles, picking at the lunch.  He could have asked Zack to pay, right?  On second thought, no way.  It’s all his fault.  He’s beyond lucky Zack didn’t just leave him in the mess on the floor.  

The conversation has moved on, and as always, Cloud isn’t really a part of it, or he’s not sure how to be.  Bless Zack for even trying to include him for what is likely both the first and last time.  

The expensive lunch is taunting him, and it makes him feel a little sick to eat so much, but Zack had picked it for him, so he keeps chewing even when it doesn’t taste good anymore, nodding along to Zack’s description of Gongaga.  With its lush jungle and heat, it sounds nothing like Nibelheim except for the part about being in the middle of nowhere, but as long as he’s chewing, he can’t talk, and Zack seems more than happy to carry the conversation by himself.  That suits Cloud just fine.

“And then we get to the big city, which is rough.  It’s so noisy, and everyone has such different rules,” he continues. “But these Midgar people have no idea that we’ve basically been training our whole lives.  Then, once they see us in action, they figure it out.”  

Zack grins, jabbing his fork at Cloud for emphasis.  “That’s why we make the best SOLDIERs.”

We.

Cloud almost chokes on his lemonade, but he somehow manages to keep it down.  It’s too sweet.  But he hadn’t been able to say no.  Forty gil for the damn thing and he’s absolutely kicking himself for it.  The idea of even being included in the same “we” as Zack makes him feel a little delirious.  His scarf is suddenly too hot around his neck.  

Maybe if Zack is right, that means Cloud has some secret greatness inside him.  He’s only being held back by his own anxiety—not some incurable pathological deficiency that will exclude him from SOLDIER forever.

He’ll just skip dinner, and everything will be okay.  By this point, he’s eaten enough for two days, although he feels a little queasy, and he’s not sure if it’s from Zack’s persistent stare or the richness of the food.  He’ll be fine because Zack is looking out for him, and country boys have to stick together.

When he stands up to go to his next assignment, his ankle twinges.  He hadn’t landed quite right back there, but the adrenaline had carried him this far.  He nearly stumbles as his ankle threatens to give out, but Zack catches him by his forearms.  “Whoa, be careful!  Twice in one day?”

Cloud feels hot all over, and he wishes Zack would let go of him.  This is too much.  “Yeah, sorry—gotta be careful.  I think I tweaked my ankle earlier, but it’s not a big deal.”

“Oh, really?  Let me see.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” he stutters, trying to extricate himself from Zack’s grasp.  Somehow, one of Zack’s hands has settled at the small of his back, but the other is still holding his forearm.  Like he’s some damsel in distress, and he really doesn’t like it.  Or maybe he does, but it’s embarrassing, and Zack is too handsome and too special to be bothering with him.  “I’ll drink a potion later.”

“Alright, if you’re sure.”  Zack doesn’t seem to believe him.  “I have healing materia, but it’s not really regulation to use it outside of SOLDIER.  Sorry, Spike.”

That makes sense.  Why waste the mana on someone like him?  Zack’s hands still linger, and they feel like fire, even through the fabric of his uniform.

“I will,” he mumbles.  “Thanks, Zack.  I gotta go.”

“Okay, country boy.  Don’t be a stranger!  SOLDIERs have to help each other out.  See ya round.”

Zack’s fingers squeeze ever so briefly before he lets him go.  It almost hurts for a moment, before Cloud is even sure if Zack had touched him at all him at all, but Cloud knows that SOLDIERs are much stronger than other people.  Maybe Zack doesn’t know his own strength.  Plus, he’s the touchy-feely type—that much Cloud can tell.  

Cloud rides the high through the rest of the afternoon, picturing Zack’s face in his mind’s eye—the strong jaw, the one corner of his mouth perking up, the scar, even his silver earring.  It’s all so charming.  He can barely focus on anything at all.  Zack had to go through training too, so he tries to do his best.

That night, he’s hungry.  Thankfully, he’d recently snatched some perfectly good snacks the janitors were throwing out from the vending machines by the Public Security gym.  The expiration dates are not too far gone, and he’s definitely dealt with worse back home.  After half a crumbly granola bar and a handful of peanuts, he still feels the clench of his stomach.  

He reminds himself it’s for a good reason.  He’d had lunch with a SOLDIER.  Several, actually—but Zack is the one who had actually mattered.  Steak and dessert and the whole thing, and he’d been a part of it.  The other guys who had been watching and whispering seemed to acknowledge that Zack was to be respected, so if he was okay with Cloud, then maybe that meant they would be okay with him too.  

He wishes he could tell his mother, I made a friend, but he feels a surge of weakness.  Is he really trying to be Zack’s friend?  Or is he just being creepy, latching onto him like a parasite?  He does want to make SOLDIER, and Zack is probably the best-positioned person he’s met so far who can help him get there.  Besides, Zack probably won’t even remember him tomorrow.

Don't be selfish, Cloud. 

If he does manage to become his friend, then hopefully Zack doesn’t think Cloud was just sucking up to him to get ahead.  But lunch had been Zack’s idea.  So maybe it’s not that.  Turning it over in his mind is starting to give him a headache, and the whole day has him feeling like an exposed nerve.

Taking a full potion would be too expensive; he hates that he lied to Zack about it.  He only has a few left in his stockpile, and on top of the lunch, he’s feeling the end of this pay period worse than usual. 

As a compromise, he drinks a little less than half, puts the cap back on, and wraps a plastic bag of ice around his ankle before propping it up in bed.  It’s swollen, but he’s seen worse.  Zack’s healing materia would have been a waste.

His stomach rumbles, and he rolls over in his bunk, careful not to jostle his ankle too much.  His roommates are out doing Hel knows what, and Cloud knows he’ll be in better shape than them tomorrow if he can get a good night’s sleep.  But when he tries to close his eyes, all he can think about is Zack’s tanned face, his freckled-dotted biceps, the way he smelled, the press of his fingers on Cloud’s waist.

When he wakes up the next morning with the ice now melted into a puddle in his bed, ugh, he finds small, circular bruises on his forearm where Zack’s fingertips had clamped down.  

He doesn’t hate it.  His ankle mostly feels better, and his arm doesn’t hurt, but the greenish spots on his skin are precious souvenirs, and when he touches himself in the shower before he gets ready for the day, early enough that nobody else will bother him, he looks down at the marks.  

He imagines Zack’s hand guiding him, his other hand massaging his scalp, his smile soft and gentle, his voice quiet and smooth as he slowly kisses Cloud.  We have to stick together.  That’s right.  You and me.  He comes embarrassingly quickly, but it does nothing to chase the image of Zack’s face from his cluttered mind.

Zack had been so nice yesterday.  He’s lucky it was Zack, then, and not some other Shinra higher-up.  It could’ve been a summary execution right there in the cafeteria if he’d landed on the wrong person’s bad side.  

Over the next few weeks, he tries to take Zack’s words to heart.  Being a kid from a backwater town doesn’t have to be a disadvantage, does it? 

Soon, he starts to see more of Zack around the building.  Cloud thinks he would have noticed him before, stunning as he is, but maybe he just wasn’t looking.  Maybe his brain had still been calibrated to look only for Sephiroth, but he has a new object of his fantasies now.  Please look at me.

One day, Zack shows up at one of the troopers’ combat drills.  Cloud isn’t as tall as his peers, but he has speed, and he has determination.  When they tap out, he keeps going.  His ankle is still bothering him, but now he knows healing materia is reserved for Research, Science, and SOLDIERs, not for Public Security.

During sparring practice, he’s distracted when he sees Zack slip in the door and watch.  He thinks for a moment that Zack is looking right at him.  Wait.  That makes no sense, so he tries to focus on his opponent.  He twists out of his partner’s reach and drops into a defensive crouch.  He’s getting tired.  

His opponent has the size advantage, but he’s faster, and he wants Zack to notice, even if that’s impossible.  He wins, landing the third touch, and by the time he hauls the other trooper off the mat and they shake hands, Zack is nowhere to be seen.  His ankle is still screaming at him after that spill in the cafeteria, but he brushes off the instructor’s offer of a cure spell and limps to the showers. 

Then, he’s in the cafeteria, somehow always at the same time as Cloud, almost every day, even if Cloud comes a little early or late.  The other guys talk about their weapons, their girlfriends, their trip to Costa Del Sol.  Cloud can’t even pretend to keep up with them, but when he looks at Zack, Zack is smiling at him, and that’s enough.  

A few days later, he’s stepping in the elevator, on his way to deliver some boxes to the Science Department.  That whole place really gives him the creeps, so he’s trying to be quick, and he can’t see who enters the elevator behind the boxes in his arms.

“Hey, Cloud!  Is that you?  I’d recognize that chocobo head anywhere!”

Zack peers around the packages and ruffles Cloud’s hair.  “Where are you off to?”

“Hey, Zack.  To the Science Department, dropping off all this stuff.”

“Oh, no way!  Me too!  Here, let me take some of those.”  He tries to protest, but Zack snatches some of the parcels off the top of the stack and leans against the back wall of the elevator, sliding towards Cloud.  “I got ’em!  SOLDIERs have to take care of each other.”

His elbow and hip brush against Cloud, but before Cloud realizes it, he’s practically backed into the corner.  A few more employees step into the elevator, and now he’s all but trapped.  But Zack is doing him a big favor, and even if it’s a little uncomfortable to be boxed in like this, he gets to enjoy this ride with Zack.

“So you’re their delivery boy?”

“Well, when they ask us to help out, we help out.  I don’t mind.  It’s all part of doing my duty for Shinra.”

“You know, you’re adorable,” Zack murmurs, low enough that Cloud knows it’s just for him.  “Like a puppy.”

“Huh?”

Zack laughs a little, and Cloud can see the pauldrons of his uniform bouncing up and down.  He doesn’t like this comparison, but he does like Zack, so he doesn’t say anything.  “It’s a compliment, don’t worry.”

After they make the delivery, Zack follows him back into the hallway, fluffing his hair again.  Cloud isn’t sure if he hates it or not.  “Wait, I thought you were going to the Science Department too.”

“I just did,” he replies.  “And now I’m off to the combat sim.  See you later!”

He jogs down the hall, and Cloud is left standing there, clutching the delivery signature slip, watching his ass bounce up and down in his tight uniform pants.

The following week, Zack steps into Cloud’s partner’s place during their hand-to-hand combat session.  Cloud is drenched in sweat, nearing his limit, but Zack looks fresh as can be. 

At first, Cloud thinks it’s a joke, but in a matter of seconds, Zack has him pinned to the ground.  It doesn’t hurt, not really, but his arm is bent at a funny angle, and although his chest is heaving with exhaustion, Zack is completely calm.  When Cloud tries to get back up, Zack doesn’t let him go right away.

“Hey, catch your breath, Spike.”

It feels impossible.  Zack feels like a behemoth on top of him, and doesn’t ease up the pressure on his chest.  When they try again, Cloud is determined, but Zack wins easily.  His strength is a little frightening, but Cloud can’t tell if he’s holding back.  He just knows he doesn’t mind seeing Zack smile like that above him, even if he doesn’t know why Zack keeps him pinned for so long.

Near the end, when Zack has him trapped him under his arm, Cloud can see out of the corner of his eye that Sephiroth has arrived.  He’s in the same uniform from the pictures, talking on his PHS and scanning the room.  Cloud tries to study him from his awkward angle on the floor; he’s been putting in the work, doing the drills, doing the damn push-ups and early morning runs and everything, but Sephiroth is untouchable.

He’s somehow even lovelier in the fleeting glimpses Cloud gets than he had ever been on the trading card or in the magazines, and his hair smells faintly of jasmine and rose when he passes by. 

But Zack is better.  He doesn’t smell like stupid flowers.  He’s real, and Cloud can feel the heat of him, as if he’s never cold in that sleeveless uniform, despite the metal everywhere and the soulless, air-conditioned grey of the tower.  Zack is serene, and his touch is firm on Cloud’s waist as he finally helps him stand.

He wants to touch the scar on Zack’s cheek and ask him how he got it.  He wants to go to that little Wutaian restaurant where all the other guys go with their girlfriends, share all the foods he’s never tried before.  He wouldn’t even mind if Zack were to laugh at him because he can’t handle spicy food.  He could take it, as long as Zack is happy.  

He’s never liked the word “crush” before.  It sounded scary.  Who wants to be crushed like some bug? 

But now he feels the weight of it, the sinking in his chest and the tingle in his fingers and toes when Zack leans in a little too close when they’re in line for breakfast, when they’re on patrol in Sector Eight.  It feels like a heavy blanket in the winter, and he just has to remember to breathe.  Easier said than done.

Again and again, Cloud touches himself thinking about Zack.  It’s a pain to find privacy in this place, but he is determined.  He has so many things to think about.  He finally knows about the aftershave (and 3,000 gil had been far enough outside his price range that Cloud had sadly not purchased a bottle for himself), knows about the laundry detergent they use for his uniforms, knows that he lives on same floor with the other Firsts, knows he likes pizza and cactuar soda and winning at everything.  But what does he do with all the hours Cloud doesn’t see?  

Cloud finds himself wondering what Zack’s hair smells like.  What shampoo does he use?  Every other man around here smells gross, but up close, Zack smells like the rain hitting the earth on Mt. Nibel on the first day of spring.  Well, actually, he smells like sweat, but Cloud wants to shove his face into Zack’s armpit and take a deep breath and taste it for himself.  He’s sure it would taste wonderful. 

What is wrong with you?!  

Does Zack like video games?  Does he read comics?  Who are his closest friends at Shinra?  What is his favorite summon?  Does he like Stamp?  Doesn’t he think Stamp is just stupid corporate propaganda?  Or does he think Stamp is kind of cute?  Maybe Cloud could agree that Stamp is cute, if that’s what Zack thinks.

What are his parents like?  Does he have a girlfriend?  A boyfriend?  Does he like pickles too?  Has he ever ridden a chocobo?  Would he hate Cloud if he really got to know him?  Wait, does he have a girlfriend?  

What do his feet look like?  Even his feet are probably attractive.  Has he read Loveless?  What kind of toothpaste does he use?  He probably has a girlfriend.  Doesn’t he agree Potions taste kind of weird?  Does he speak any other languages?  Which hand does he use to jerk off? 

He wonders if he could figure out the answers to any of these questions, and he hates himself.  He’s worse than those SOLDIER fanclubs, the lowest of the low, lusting after his coworker and mentor like this. 

The shame comes on quickly, like a knife twisting in his gut, and he kind of wishes he had thrown his lunch all over Sephiroth that day so Sephiroth could have just run him through with his sword right then and there and this would all be over and done with.  

If only Zack knew what Cloud was thinking, he’d be disgusted.  He’s looking out for his juniors, trying to help the Company, even trying to help Cloud move up the ranks, but all Cloud can do is imagine what it would be like to kiss Zack and go through his things like some kind of creep.  No wonder he hasn’t been promoted.  He feels a little insane.

He lingers at the door of the gym, the mess, the showers, the entrance to Shinra Tower.  Maybe he’ll see Zack from afar.  A wave—Hel, even a glance or, if he’s extra lucky, the curve of his lips into another brilliant smile—can fuel his fantasies for weeks.  Months, maybe.  He wonders if there’s something wrong with him beyond just his neuroses and his desire to follow.  

He’s not sure if he wants to be a SOLDIER or just wants to be like Zack, who seems so unburdened by anxiety in comparison.  Sure, he’s another country boy, but Cloud can tell he was cut from an entirely different bolt of cloth.

It’s so distracting, but when he’s faced with a problem, or a task in his training, he just thinks, what would Zack do?  He speaks and moves so effortlessly, as if his mind isn’t constantly plagued with awkward guilt.  He might be a country boy like Cloud, but Cloud can’t imagine that his upbringing in Gongaga was anything like his childhood in Nibelheim.  

Cloud is pushing himself in the gym.  He knows his weaknesses: he’s too eager to take orders, too prone to motion-sickness, too short.  He knows his strengths: he doesn’t give up, and thanks to the high altitude and years of running errands around Nibelheim, he’s probably the fittest, fastest, and strongest unenhanced person in the building.  Or at least in the top five.

But that’s nothing compared to Zack.

It’s getting to the point where he’s worried he might have moaned Zack’s name in his sleep, in the barracks.  It’s distracting.  He almost wishes Zack would go out on more missions, but then he would be worrying about Zack.  Zack is tough, he remembers, so there’s no reason to worry.  Cloud needs to worry about himself.

The SOLDIER exams sneak up on him.  He’s been so entranced with running into Zack that he feels unprepared.  The physical evaluation poses no problem, but the psych evaluation is grueling, and he doesn’t know if there’s a right answer or if it’s just some sick game to see how long they can force him to make eye contact before he wants to scream.  He just wants to serve and become a SOLDIER.  What’s so wrong with that?

Before he goes for the mako testing, Zack is standing outside of the Science Department, arms crossed.  He flashes Cloud a little thumbs up, and when Cloud asks if he’ll stay, Zack shakes his head.  “I have to go on a mission.  But you’ll do great.  It’s just a little pinch, promise.”

Cloud hates himself for even asking.  

When the results inevitably come, he still feels a little ill.  Zack says it’s normal, that everyone feels sick their first time, but when the results are posted, he doesn’t have to look at them to know.  Failure.  Too weak, too pathetic, too useless.  Just like back in Nibelheim.  He wants it too badly, apparently.  Too desperate to please, not desperate enough for glory.  That’s why people like Zack get chosen to be elite, and he gets boring patrol duty.  

“Don’t feel bad.  Lots of guys don’t make it on their first try.”

“Really?” he asks, finally looking up at Zack.

“I mean, a few, sure.  Come out with us.  You don’t have to celebrate, but a drink will help.  Trust me!  Angeal kicked my ass a few times when I was trying to get promoted and it always helped me.”

But you were already a SOLDIER by then, Cloud thinks, letting Zack guide him down the hall and out the door.  It feels nice to have Zack’s arm around his shoulder, and as soon as they’re in the bar, Zack is pressing a shot glass into his hand.  It feels extraordinary when their fingertips touch.  The liquor in the glass is greenish, and he vaguely recalls that they had told him to avoid alcohol for a week after the mako testing.  “Zack, the mako—”

“Nah, they just say that, but you’ll be fine.  We do it all the time!”  Zack winks at him before tossing back his own shot, and Cloud is too mesmerized by the fluid motion of Zack’s throat swallowing the liquor to protest further.  

Zack’s friends nod, and it all seems so normal.  Zack shoves another glass into his hand quickly after that, and his fingers find their way to a knot at the juncture of Cloud’s neck and shoulder.  “It’ll help you relax.  Promise.  You had a rough one today.”  

He’s not wrong.  A few drinks later, he’s listening to some SOLDIER talking about the new motorcycle model the Seconds are getting, and he wonders what it might be like to ride one.  Zack knows how, apparently, but Cloud had never worked up the courage to ask about it, and it probably won’t matter when he gets kicked out soon enough.  

All around them, Cloud can feel the sweaty press of dancing bodies, the joy of the successful SOLDIER candidates.  He hears the pinball machines and the clinking of glasses.  Cloud stares down at the sticky table, shoulders slumped, and it’s easy to let them all move along with their fun while he sits in his self-created solitude.  The bar doesn’t matter.  Only SOLDIER matters, and he didn’t make it.  He wishes he had more liquor.  His eyes nearly slide shut with the fatigue of the day, but he feels warmth behind him.

Zack is leaning over him, practically hugging him from behind and sliding a bright pink drink in front of him.  “Don’t be so blue, okay?”

“Why not?” he mumbles.  “I failed.”

“You failed for now.  What about next time, huh?  Anyway, I like you better when you’re having fun.  Drink up.”

Cloud so desperately wants to believe him.  Today feels like the pinnacle of all his mounting failures, and he’s not sure they’ll even bother to give him another shot.  Why would they?  He’s been at the top of all of his combat-based assessment, and yet the other guys made it.  There has to be something really, deeply wrong with him.  Too bad Zack can’t figure it out.  Sweet, lovely Zack who bought him all those drinks, who is walking him back down Loveless Street, his arm around Cloud’s shoulder.  

He’s feeling a little more clear-headed by the time they get into Zack’s apartment, but his mouth is dry.  After they take off their shoes, he stumbles into Zack’s bathroom, amazed that Zack has allowed him into his home like this.  He’d always wondered how Zack lived, and after he’s done gulping cold water from the tap, he starts going through the medicine cabinet.  

He pulls back the chocobo-print shower curtain to look at the bottles of soap.  He even finds himself uncapping the shampoo, inhaling it deeply.  His stomach lurches; way too sweet!  The tap is still running—shit!—and he splashes some water on his face.  Get it together, Cloud.  Your friend is trying to help you.

In the mirror, he wonders what it would look like if his eyes had the mako glow like Zack’s.  Perhaps he’ll never find out.  He should just go back to his bunk and call it a night.  They won’t let him off patrol tomorrow anyway, and he doesn’t feel sick, not exactly, but he knows he won’t be at his best in the morning.

When he stumbles out of the bathroom, Zack is drinking a beer and lounging on the couch with his legs spread, grinning at him.  Behind him is the green glow of Midgar, and the whole scene is entrancing, like something out of a movie.  The view feels a little dizzying, up so high, but he barely has a chance to take it in before Zack sets down the beer and pulls him down onto the couch with him.

“Come here,” says Zack, and before Cloud knows what’s happening, he’s sprawled on top of Zack’s body, way closer than he’d ever imagined.  Zack is so, so warm, like hot coals on Yule, and Cloud can feel his own heartbeat hammering in his ears as Zack’s long fingers wrap around his waist and splay across his back.  

“Zack, what are you—”

“You’re just so pretty,” Zack groans, nuzzling his face into the crook of Cloud’s neck.  Cloud has no idea what to do with his hands, and settles for reaching above Zack’s head to try to hold himself up by bracing against the couch cushion.  His arms are shaking with the effort, and Zack is still talking.  “You have no idea, do you?  It’s driving me crazy.”  He doesn’t want to be disrespectful, doesn’t want to completely lose his shit, but this is beyond anything he’d ever dreamed up.  

This cannot be happening.  Just how much did he have to drink, exactly?  The room is blurry, and he feels like he’s falling, but he’s not sure if it’s the liquor or the dizzying feeling of Zack’s thumbs pressing into his stomach and hooking into the waist of his pants.  Or maybe it’s the mako, but Zack had said that it wasn’t a big deal.  Zack, who is mouthing at Cloud’s neck, nibbling on him like he’s a piece of candy, running his hands up Cloud’s chest like he’s with someone beautiful.

Maybe that’s it.  Maybe Zack is drunk too.  Maybe he had too much to drink and he’s confusing Cloud with someone else.  It’s the only thing that makes sense.

Zack’s mouth is distracting, and Cloud feels like he might fall over.  “I’m not sure—”

“We’re friends, aren’t we?” Zack breathes, giving Cloud’s earlobe a little lick, and Cloud is suddenly aware of the heat where their bodies are joined.  Zack’s hips surge up into his, and—oh, he really must be dreaming.  There’s no way that Zack is . . . fuck.  “I’m just being friendly, Cloud.”

“This is . . . more than . . .”  His breath comes in short pants as Zack sucks a bruise into his neck.  He’d always wanted a friend.  Zack’s fingers brush over his nipples, and his eyes flutter shut.  He’d never ever thought about doing that to himself, but somehow, with Zack, it feels incredible.  

He tries to keep his eyes shut.  He knows from experience that keeping them open is a surefire way to wake up from his favorite dreams, and he wants to make this one last, even if it’s a little unexpected.  As Zack pinches his nipple through his thin shirt, the most embarrassing noise on the Planet comes out of his mouth.  Before he can remember to cover his mouth, Zack flicks his nipple, hard, and laughs. 

Cloud can’t help it, but it feels so, so good, and he gasps when Zack’s fingers suddenly turn gentle, massaging the muscle and everywhere but the precise place he wants Zack to touch again.

He can feel the bite of Zack’s teeth against his neck and the thick heat of him pressing up against his own pants, which suddenly feel way too tight.  “Knew it,” Zack chuckles, before grabbing Cloud’s chin with his other hand and forcing him to look up into his eyes.  “You’re so sensitive.”

“It feels really—” Fuck, now his hand is under Cloud’s shirt.  Zack’s mouth is so tempting, but the hand on Cloud’s jaw is firm, and his heavy-lidded gaze roams over Cloud’s face, as if he’s looking for something.  “It feels—”

Cloud is choking on his words.  He wants to kiss him so badly, but Zack holds him fast, his hand resting heavily over his chin and throat.  Cloud doesn’t want to move, doesn’t want to wake up from the dream, but he just can’t help grinding down against Zack’s cock.  It feels so good, so wrong, that he can’t believe Zack is letting him do this. 

His hips strain with the effort of straddling Zack’s muscular thighs, but he doesn’t care.  Zack can judge him later.  He needs to feel close, needs to feel the broad heel of Zack’s hand stroking up against his nipple again and again.  “Zack, please!”

Even though Cloud is sitting on his lap, Zack still looms over him.  His hands are so strong Cloud is afraid to move anything but his hips, which rut against Zack’s, seemingly of their own accord.  

“Just like that,” Zack breathes, his eyes never leaving Cloud’s face.  The pressure is building, and as Zack moves to his other nipple, Cloud tries to stare at the ceiling, tries to close his eyes, tries to look anywhere else.  But Zack tightens his grip on Cloud’s chin.  “Show me how good it feels.  Show me what you want.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice—he came to Shinra to do his duty and follow orders, after all.  He grinds against Zack, feels Zack thrust up against him; he can’t get the rhythm right, but he’s trying so hard to be good. 

“Beg for it.”

“Please,” he whispers, not sure what he’s asking for.  He wants to hide his face, but there’s nowhere to go, not with Zack above him like this, arms and legs encircling him, fingers bruising into his cheeks.  Everywhere he turns, there’s a muscled limb, a gleaming smile, the smell of aftershave, mako, and sweat.  “Please, Zack.”   

The room is spinning, but Zack’s eyes are glowing in the dark, the same as the reactors outside, and all Cloud can see is green, green, green as he comes right there, fully clothed, played like a puppet by Zack’s callused hands.  

“Good boy,” he hears from far away, as if he’s underwater, and Zack’s mouth is doing something, but it’s hard to tell what it is.

“You got overexcited.  I totally get it.  See?”  Zack takes Cloud’s hand and guides it to the front of his pants.  “I’m excited too.”

No kidding.  Cloud’s mouth practically salivates, but he’s not sure if it’s from want or from fear; Zack is big, and he’s rock hard under Cloud’s fingers.  He feels wrung out, more relaxed than he’s ever been in his life.  Wow.

“Just like a puppy, you couldn’t help yourself.”  

He is completely boneless, as if his fingers and toes have separated from his body and gotten lost somewhere in the couch cushions, along with his mind.  Everything is pins and needles, except the uncomfortable mess in his pants and the heat under his palm.  Whoa!  He jerks his hand back and stares up at the ceiling, but Zack doesn’t seem to notice his panic.   

In fact, Zack is moving above him, doing something.  When Cloud’s vision finally refocuses, he can see that Zack has taken his shirt off, and he’s maneuvered Cloud so his head is resting in his lap.  Zack’s belt is gone, which is weird, but Cloud is too far gone in his haze to think too deeply about it.  The reactors’ glow from the window cuts strange shadows across Zack’s abs and shoulders, so unlike in Cloud’s dreams, and his voice is low.  

“Hey.  Don’t you still want to make SOLDIER?”

“Sorry, what?” He swallows, staring up at Zack.

Zack is petting his hair again, but he doesn’t stop there.  His fingers ghost along the line of Cloud’s throat; his thumb presses at Cloud’s lower lip.  It’s all so surreal, and even in the liquored haze, Zack is there, like an anchor pulling him under, far above him and terribly close.

“I can help you.  You just got a little overexcited, but it’s okay.  I’ll take care of you, but you have to take care of me too.”  

It’s not okay.  It’s so embarrassing.  Zack’s fingers are still there, tracing the outline of his lips.  Cloud wishes he’d managed to kiss Zack earlier, but Zack had seemed to want to watch him instead, so if that’s what Zack wants, maybe that’s better.  He’s never kissed anyone, and here he is, wondering if he should let Zack put his fingers in his mouth.  Why would anyone want to do that?  

It’s not his place to ask questions, he remembers.

“Good boy,” Zack whispers, pressing his thumb in.  Cloud loves the sound of it, but he didn’t dream about this.  He does want to be good, and Zack’s voice sends a pulse of want straight through him as he sucks the tip of Zack’s thumb.  Zack seems pleased, so Cloud tries swirling his tongue around it.  “That’s right, Cloud.  Show me.”

Another finger plunges into his mouth; he tries to swallow his saliva, tries not to panic.  Zack’s hands taste like soap and beer.

“You’ve been teasing me all night, Spike.”

Teasing?  He really didn’t mean it, but he supposes that might be true.  He’d smiled at Zack, had leaned into his touch, had taken his drinks and laughed at his jokes.  Shit, those drinks can’t have been cheap!  Zack has done so much for him in the last few months, and Cloud’s failure in the SOLDIER program is a poor reflection on Zack’s mentorship.  Maybe he’s been teasing him the whole time. 

“Remember, I told you that SOLDIERs have to take care of each other.”

That’s right.  He remembers.   Zack had let him grind against him earlier, and now it’s only right that he can help Zack too.  Zack is right about so many things.  Cloud can’t speak with Zack’s fingers in his mouth, so he tries to nod, but the motion makes him gag.  Zack yanks his fingers out, laughing above him as he coughs, and before Cloud can figure out how to breathe again, he hears Zack unzipping his pants.  Transfixed, Cloud tries to push himself up, but his arms feel so weak, and Zack’s hand comes to rest on the back of his neck.  Cloud feels the heat of it well before he turns his head to see Zack pull out his cock.  

He’s massive, and it twitches as Zack rubs it against Cloud’s cheek, leaving a damp trail.  “Open up, puppy,” Zack commands, and Cloud does exactly he’s told.  For a moment, Zack taps it against Cloud’s tongue, sighing heavily.  It tastes salty, and Cloud doesn’t hate it, but he knows Zack won’t stop here.  “Be careful with your teeth, okay?  I’ll be gentle.”

When Zack pushes in slowly, Cloud almost chokes, and he tries to calm his mind by focusing on the lovely juncture of Zack’s hips, where the muscle of his pelvis meets his legs.  

“Show me how much you want it.”  Zack’s hand guides the back of his neck, and Cloud is ashamed of how sweaty his hair is.  Don’t touch me.  “Keep going.”

He knows he isn’t doing a good job, and he’s glad he isn’t looking up at Zack’s face from this angle.  Zack is so thick, so huge, and Cloud can barely take in half of him before he feels Zack pulsating at the back of his mouth.  He moans a little, trying to adjust around Zack’s length, breathing hard through his nose.  

“Use your hands,” Zack murmurs, and he immediately complies, but it’s all so sticky and messy.  Even with his hands, he feels like he can barely handle all of Zack’s cock.  But it spurs him on to take a little more, and Zack groans as Cloud feels him thrust even deeper.  

Breathe, Cloud.  The fingers knotted in his hair tighten a little, and when he focuses on the sound of Zack’s pleasure, that gives him the motivation to keep going.  SOLDIERs have to take care of each other.

“Use your tongue, Cloud,” Zack instructs.  “That’s it, get me ready.”

Cloud starts to find a rhythm, but he finds himself wondering, ready for what?   He almost likes the sound of it, but he’s scared of what will happen next.  His fantasies have never gone this far; he’s usually stopped at the vision of waking up to sweet words and touching because he can never last much beyond that.  Logically, he knows there’s more to it, and he’s heard other men talk about it, but it’s always been closed off to him.  But here, in the green light, he’s in the unknown, and Zack is leading him onward into the secret world.

“Keep going,” Zack grits out, thrusting up into Cloud’s mouth.  For a moment, it seems as though Zack wants to stop, but Cloud realizes he’s adjusting Cloud’s body so that when he looks up, Zack is peering down at him in the eerie light as he fucks into Cloud’s mouth.

Cloud’s stomach clenches, and he can feel Zack’s cock start to slide into his throat, but he can take it, he knows he can, even if he feels the tears starting to drip down his cheeks.  He’s strong.  He always wants to help.  He didn’t have too much to drink.  It’s fine.  He always volunteers for the extra shift, to accompany Zack and his crew of Thirds around the city.  He always cleans up their trays at lunch, and he never says no.  He’s never even wanted to say no.  

He almost wants to say no now, but he knows better.  

And Zack’s words are almost sweet.  “Good boy,” he says, cupping Cloud’s cheek and wiping away a tear.  Cloud keeps going because he doesn’t know what else to do—because it’s Zack.  

That powerful hand brushes his sweaty hair away from his forehead before sinking into the roots and grabbing on tight.  

“Look at me, so pretty,” Zack pleads, and Cloud feels Zack’s cock pulse down the back of his throat, salty and hot.  Cloud sputters a little, feeling the burning in his throat and nose.  He swallows quickly because Zack’s hands give him no choice, but he can’t manage all of it, and even as Zack’s come fills his mouth, he feels some of it spill out over his hands.  He tastes faintly of mako, like salt and ash.  

Maybe it’s over, he thinks, trying to wipe his hands on his pants.  Suddenly, Zack is pulling him up into his lap, cradling him close.  

“You’re a quick learner,” says Zack, pressing kisses to Cloud’s damp forehead and running the backs of his knuckles up Cloud’s arm.  Cloud’s skin feels so hot, but he’s covered in goosebumps.  “Fuck, you did good.”

Zack’s words feel better than anything they’ve done so far tonight.  Cloud’s body still feels limp, and his mouth and hands are messy.  He softly kisses Zack’s neck, delighted just to be close and smell him.  Zack doesn’t mind his mess, and isn’t that a beautiful thing?  

This is what SOLDIERs do, and he’s done it.  Zack’s hands are moving with more purpose, sliding up under Cloud’s shirt again, but it isn’t unpleasant, just a little sweaty.  

Emboldened, Cloud kisses Zack’s scar and wishes they could stay like this forever.  It’s better than any dream, if he can ignore the awful taste in his mouth.  Cloud briefly wonders why he’d ever thought he would even want to say no.  Zack can be sweet, but he was excited too, and Cloud had to take care of him.  He’s doing his job.

Or at least that’s what he thinks before Zack starts tugging at his clothes with more fervor.  Cloud’s shirt is off in a flash, and maybe it’s the alcohol that has him sagging against Zack’s body.  If Zack wants it, maybe it’s not so bad.  The tanned muscle underneath him is almost hypnotic.  Then, Zack’s hands settle around Cloud’s waist.  Zack really doesn’t mind, Cloud thinks, nuzzling his face back into Zack’s neck.  He could fall asleep like this, even if he’s still embarrassed and he doesn’t really want to be naked. 

Zack pulls off Cloud’s pants and his damp underwear, and when Cloud tries to shift away to cover himself, Zack yanks him back by the ankle and flips him so he is face down on the couch.

“Turn over,” Zack says from above.  “Let me look at you.”

For weeks, Cloud has wished so desperately for Zack to look at him, so he complies.  He’s a little confused as Zack shoves a pillow under his hips and presses his shoulders down with his broad palm.  Just what is Zack looking at, exactly, as he’s nudging Cloud’s thighs apart with his knees?  Maybe he’s going to give him a massage.  Cloud had seen the physical therapists doing it to the Thirds, but they were always wearing their clothes.  

He hears the sound of something plastic behind him, and then the feel of cold and wet slipping into the curve of his ass.  When he tries to jerk away, Zack’s hand catches his shoulders and forces him back down. 

This is what he’d meant, earlier—get you ready —Cloud realizes as Zack’s finger plunges inside him.  It doesn’t hurt, not exactly, but it doesn’t feel very nice, and without breath in his lungs, he doesn’t know how to tell Zack to stop or at least slow down, please.  

“Relax,” Zack rasps, pressing his finger deeper, working it in and out of Cloud.  “You need to relax or it’s going to hurt.”

But the second finger does hurt.  Cloud hisses, trying to pull away.  Zack holds him firmly, and his fingers sink in, probing and twisting.  “I promise it will feel good, Spike.  I’ll make it good,” he says, mouthing at the small of Cloud’s back.  

Cloud doesn’t believe him until his fingers flex a little and Zack touches something that has Cloud thrashing beneath him.

“See,” Zack snickers, worrying a bruise into the thin skin at the base of Cloud’s spine.  “I told you.  I’m having so much fun with you tonight.”

I’m having so much fun with you.  Cloud’s never heard anyone express that before.  

“You are?” he whines, pushing his hips back to meet Zack’s hand, trying to get him to angle his fingers just right again.

Zack laughs and presses another finger into Cloud.  It doesn’t . . . hurt, not exactly, but it feels strange.  Is this really what all the hype is about?  As he lies flat, with his cheek pressed against the couch cushion, all he can see is the green horizon and the lack of stars.  

“Of course.  But you have to take care of me too.  I know you might not be able to come again, but for SOLDIERs, we usually have to go a second time.”

Oh.

“You’ll help me out, right?  I know you want to make SOLDIER.”

That’s true.

It’s true and it’s not; what does any of this have to do with SOLDIER?  In fact, today had been a complete disaster.  The others had celebrated while he had held back tears in front of Zack.  He realizes distantly that the cushion under his cheek is wet, but he doesn’t move.  He’s not sure if he can or if he’s simply too confused to take a new course of action.

“There we go, Cloud,” Zack mutters, running his other hand up Cloud’s back.  “Just relax.”

Another finger is teasing at his rim, and he feels something wet joining it.  Zack moans, and Cloud feels the vibration ride through his fingers.  Zack is licking into him, spreading him wide, and Cloud has no idea how to relax when his head is swimming and Zack is doing something he didn’t know people could do to one another.  Maybe it does feel good.  Maybe he can relax.  

I’m never going to be a SOLDIER.

He whimpers a little, and fortunately, Zack finally pulls back, humming in satisfaction as he slowly pumps his fingers in and out of Cloud.

Relax.

Cloud feels something hot pressing against his thighs.  Between the glaring green sky and the strangely wonderful feeling in his ass, it’s hard to be here, to help Zack.  He doesn’t want to get too excited again and ruin everything, doesn’t want to fail.  Zack’s breath is close against Cloud’s shoulder, his voice low, and Cloud can feel Zack hovering over him, but he’s afraid to turn his head and look up.

When Zack pulls his fingers out and takes hold of Cloud’s hips, catching the head of his cock on Cloud’s tight rim, he knows what Zack wants. 

“Don’t worry,” Zack says, and Cloud realizes he’s crying a little.  “You’re doing well, trust me.”

I’m not.  It fucking hurts!

Zack’s cock feels bigger than it had in his mouth.  He doesn’t take his time to work his way in like he did with his fingers.  As soon as Zack eases the head in, he drives himself to the hilt, and Cloud screams.

Zack whispers in his ear, “Shh, it will feel better soon.  Just breathe with me.”

No, it won’t!

“I’ll take care of you, Cloud,” he continues, gently pumping his hips back and forth, in and out, as if he’s trying to work his way deeper, to take over Cloud completely.  Cloud can feel Zack’s fingers pressing marks into his hips, feel his abs heaving against his back.  Zack’s mouth is dangerously sharp at his neck, his teeth rubbing him raw, but his words are soft and quiet.  “Don’t worry—I’ll show you everything.  You’re so fucking pretty.  You’re so sweet, fuck, I can’t believe I waited this long.”  

Huh?

Zack’s cock is marking some new territory inside of him, and he’s not sure he’ll ever feel the same after this.  

“You’re so tight, you know that?” Zack snarls, slapping his hips against Cloud’s ass so hard it hurts. 

He knows.  He can feel it.  Maybe it’s supposed to hurt.  Maybe it will hurt and then it will feel good, like Zack’s fingers did.  Zack has always looked out for him, helping him carry packages, being his sparring partner even though Zack is so much better than him, and buying all those delicious drinks.  Zack’s cock is so huge he feels like he can’t breathe, like it’s reaching into his stomach and turning him into someone different.

“Relax, puppy.”  Zack’s voice is hoarse, and he sets a steady rhythm as he angles Cloud’s hips up.  Like this, he’s somehow reaching deeper, brushing against that deep part of him that sings every time Zack thrusts forward.

“Zack, please,” Cloud cries out.

“There we go, that’s right.  Beg for it.”

Please, Zack.  He doesn’t even know what he’s asking anymore: perhaps release, or relief, or a reprieve from the vicious onslaught of Zack’s cock, which feels like it might tear him open at any second.

“I know you want it,” Zack says, rocking into him, manhandling Cloud’s body so he’s fully seated in him, just barely pulling in and out as he takes a breath.  “I’ve seen how you look at me.”

It’s true.  

“Please!” he cries, grasping behind him to feel that it’s still Zack, that he’s still his hero, even as Zack starts to brutally fuck him, filling the hollow room with the wet sounds of the lube and the slap of his reddened ass against Zack’s chiseled hips.

“I really want you too, Cloud.”

Cloud had wanted . . . something.  He had wanted Zack’s gentle hand around his cock, his kind whispers in his ear, his pride.  He can’t deny that, and he tries to imagine it now.  But he hadn’t wanted it like this, in the sick light of the reactors, hurried and hurting and unrestrained.  He’d wanted to kiss Zack, to tell him he was a hero, to hear Zack praise him.  He had wanted it, right?

It still hurts, even when he feels his cock growing hard again in Zack’s blistering grasp.  Zack is doing it all wrong!  Cloud wants to tell him how he likes it, or how he might like it if he even knew, but the words are gone, and he feels the telltale pressure building low in his core despite himself as Zack buries his cock inside him over and over.

“Come for me, puppy,” says Zack, fucking into him faster now, hitting that heavenly spot, and Cloud can’t help himself.

Cloud keens into the fabric beneath him, thrusting up into Zack’s hand as he spurts his release all over those gorgeous, long fingers.  He wonders if he’s dreaming as he hears Zack suck something into his mouth and rut even harder into Cloud’s ass.

“Delicious, fuck.”  It’s a desperate, needy noise; he can tell Zack isn’t done.  After a shuddering breath, he starts to take his time, pulling himself nearly all the way out before teasing the head of his cock at Cloud’s abused rim without actually fucking into him.  

Cloud tries to push his ass back to meet Zack, to encourage him to keep going and finish already, to feel the little bits of ecstasy he can find deep inside.  He wants to wake up from the dream.  Zack just laughs as his fingers rake across Cloud’s back, leaving trails of fire.  “You really want it, huh?”  

No, I don’t.  I don’t know.

“Even after you came,” Zack says, “you’re so cute.  Such a slut.”

No, I’m not!

Zack is talking a mile a minute, but all Cloud can really feel is the wetness on his cheek and the depraved stretch of his ass around Zack.  Everything else is gone except the green light that fills the room.  Zack settles into a blistering pace, and Cloud feels his knees and elbows rubbed raw on the fabric below him.  The pain has him trying to adjust his limbs, and when he winces, Zack tightens his hold and his pace becomes erratic.   His length pushes ever deeper, and his hips stutter as Cloud seizes in his iron grasp.  

“Fuck, take it, I know you want it, fuck,” he babbles, his hips stuttering as he fills Cloud with his come.  It’s searing, and Cloud can feel it spill out around his cock and out of his hole, down his sore thighs.  He’d tried so hard to swallow it all before, but his ass is totally fucked open, and it feels so wrong as Zack rides it out, filling him with wave after wave of come that drips down his legs.  When he finally pulls out, Cloud feels it gush out of him, and Zack's fingers immediately tease at his puckered hole.

“Sorry, Cloud!” Zack giggles, pulling him close.  “I guess I kind of made a mess, huh.  C’mere.”  Cloud is still limp, but he can feel Zack kissing the tears from his cheeks, kissing his belly, lifting him up so he’s draped over the couch.  Suddenly, Zack is kneeling behind him, sucking his own come out of Cloud’s ass with a filthy, low groan, as if he is starving and only Cloud can sate his hunger.  Cloud lets him do it, focused only on the horizon and the thought that eventually he’ll go back to his bunk, back to Nibelheim, back to the Planet. 

When Zack is done licking him clean and carries him to the bedroom, he allows that, too.  Not like I can do anything about it.  

In the expanse of the huge, cold bed, Zack falls asleep quickly, with his body wrapped around Cloud like a massive python, and every nerve in Cloud’s body is screaming at him to run to the bathroom, to scour himself under boiling water until he can’t feel any of this anymore.  He’s not sure if he wants to use Zack’s soap, though. 

He briefly remembers how he had smelled every bottle in there earlier, pretending to use the bathroom, and he’s never loved the generic crap in the barracks so much as he does now.  Zack neglects to even use a sheet to cover them, and Cloud finds himself trembling in Zack’s arms in the dreadful air conditioning, with only Zack to keep him warm, the dead weight pinning him in place.  

Stay awake.  Go clean yourself up.

Cloud swears he won’t fall asleep, and he hates how close Zack’s hips are to his.  Stay awake.  He thinks of Zack’s face at the bar as he’d given him the first drink.  He’d been so generous, then.  His stomach turns, so he tries to focus on something better.  

Something warm, but not searing hot.  Mom’s mulled wine.  Late summer sunshine, far from the city.  Casting his first fire spell, and doing it perfectly.  Somehow, in the green and the dark, he finds his eyes slip closed, and he hates himself.

When he wakes up, he wishes he hadn’t.  Zack is behind him, driving him down again and again on his cock.  Cloud’s ass is clenching around him, and Zack’s hand on his nipple is nothing short of torture.

“You looked so cute when you were sleeping,” says Zack.  “Your ass is still so tight.” 

In the early light, Cloud is grateful he doesn’t have to look at his hero or try to figure out how long this has been happening.  He can just detach and let the uninvited pleasure take over.  He trains his eyes on the window again, even as Zack’s hands roam all over his skin, leaving new marks.  Now, his hands clutch at Cloud’s thighs, spreading him wide; then, one hand is on Cloud’s throat with the other around Cloud’s limp cock, which quickly betrays him.  

He can feel Zack smiling into his shoulder as he chants, “Cloud, Cloud, Cloud.”  He feels like nothing more than a doll in Zack’s strong arms, dead and useless, understanding at last the difference in the SOLDIER’s strength and his own.  

When Zack finally finishes and releases him, Cloud scrambles to find his clothes from the living room and get dressed.  Meanwhile Zack lounges in his bed, scrolling on his PHS as if it’s any ordinary day.  

“Guess you have to go to work today, huh?” he says.  “Saturday shifts are the worst.”

Cloud can’t look him in the eye.  He’s not a SOLDIER.  He’s just the rank and file, just a thing that happened on Zack’s night out.  

“Hey, Cloud, I was thinking about something.  Maybe you should take a potion when you get home.”  

Cloud stares at the floor, trying to keep his knees from knocking together.

“My, uh . . . the mako, you know.  It’s normal for SOLDIERs, but you should be careful.  It can be kind of toxic for other people.”  Cloud looks up to see Zack grinning sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head.

He can feel Zack’s come leaking out of his ass as he shifts between his feet.  Does he mean . . . ?

“Oh.”

“So just take a potion and it will be fine.  See you later!” 

Before he can figure out how to respond, he finds himself standing in the hall, in front of the locked door.  For a moment, he’s unable to remember how to put one foot in front of the other and go back to the barracks.  He’s walked this path a hundred times by now, but his feet won’t obey.

Back on his floor, he only realizes he’s limping when he tries to take his clothes off to get in the shower.  He really, really doesn’t want to be naked again, but he turns the tap as hot as it will go and sits on the tile.  He doesn’t want to touch himself at all, so he just stays there, hugging his knees to his chest until he hears voices outside and realizes the water has run completely cold. 

Shit, they’ll be pissed I used it up.

He manages to towel himself off and pull on some long-sleeved pajamas before crawling straight into his bunk.  When his roommates come to find him for skipping out on patrol duty, he doesn’t say anything at all.  

“Your eyes, dude!” one of them exclaims.  “Guess the mako testing messed you up.”

“We’ll call in sick for you,” the other chimes in.  “Don’t worry.”

Maybe they’re not so bad.

It happens again, first behind the gym, with Cloud worshiping Zack on his knees, swallowing it all as Zack thanks him over and over.  And again, in the shower, after Zack corners him and asks for a kiss, smiling so warmly Cloud’s heart nearly explodes.  He doesn’t know how to say no.  And again.  He tries not to count the times, scrubbing himself clean every night and rationing his snacks and potions.

After a few weeks, he’s grateful the glow in his eyes is fading so quickly each time.  He hasn’t even seen it for himself, afraid to look in the mirror and find bruises or Zack’s eyes staring back at him, but his roommates had been freaked out.  “You’re definitely going to make SOLDIER,” they had said, and he had just turned away.  

Today, he’s been assigned to join some SOLDIERs on a mission to provide support.  His stomach lurches when he sees Zack standing by the elevator with the others.  Somehow, though, Zack doesn’t look at him.  Instead, he ignores Cloud entirely, joking around as if it it’s the most normal thing in the world.  

They arrive at the clearing in the slums to deal with the escaped monster from the Science Department.  Zack runs off to handle the violence as Cloud stands near the helicopter,  trying to fight off the motion sickness.  

When they return to the tower, Cloud is swaying precariously, and Zack swoops in, his breath thick in Cloud’s ear.  “I’ll take care of you,” he says, and Cloud knows what he means.

Cloud can’t deny it hurts, but he also can’t deny it still feels kind of good when Zack shoves his cock inside him, telling him how pretty he is.  It feels like Zack is trying to tear him apart, trying to break him; Cloud wonders if maybe that’s what he wants.  Zack doesn’t tire himself out so quickly this time, and even when Cloud has come in Zack’s hand, Zack is still going, holding Cloud’s legs up over his shoulders as he fucks in and out of him.  

Cloud can feel his own come dripping down to his ass, hears the squelch of it with the lube, feels Zack’s cock throbbing inside him, suffocating him from the inside.  

Zack flips them over and shoves Cloud’s face down into the pillow; his mind floats away to the top of a snowy mountain in winter, clear air and dark skies, a welcome relief from the heat of Zack’s enhanced body and the green, green, green.  

It doesn’t feel romantic, but it does feel close.  It’s still not what he’d imagined, not exactly holding hands at the movies, but Zack is whispering puppy, my little slut in his ear.   When he remembers to move his hands, which are trapped uncomfortably under his body, he thinks for a moment that he can feel the outline of Zack’s cock in his belly, pressing against the bed.  

He’s already come once, and his cockhead rubs against the rough sheets with every thrust of Zack’s hips.  Between that and Zack splitting him open, just grazing that frightful place inside him, he nearly falls over the cliff again, hating himself a little as he quivers in Zack’s arms, pinned tight.

He’s too fucked out to even hold himself up on his knees anymore, so Zack props him up him on his side, then presses his thighs together and fucks him like that.  Cloud’s come mixes with Zack’s precome in the space where his thighs meet, and Zack just keeps going.  

“Good boy,” he says, “So sweet.  You don’t have to do anything at all.”  All he can feel now is his own drool on the mattress, the wet slide of Zack’s cock, and he’d love it if he knew what Zack really wanted from him.  He feels so dirty, so covered in sweat and come; Zack doesn’t seem to care.  

Cloud doesn’t want to disappoint, and he lets Zack keep going, feels the friction of Zack between his thighs, the torturous slide of his cock against the sheets.  When Zack comes, squeezing Cloud’s body in his arms so hard it knocks the air out of him, Cloud is just grateful he isn’t filling him with mako again.

Even now, his thighs still burn, and the seams of his uniform trousers chafe with every bump in the road.  It’s been a few days, but the last half potion hadn’t done much to remedy the pain.  On the way to Nibelheim, he’s cursing the luck that’s brought him on another mission with Zack.  

Sephiroth is sitting there, huge and quiet, although Cloud can feel his eyes on him even as he tries to keep his head down and between his knees.  It feels like a Nibel wolf is gnawing at his stomach, as if his heart might leap out of his mouth along with everything he’s eaten since yesterday, which wasn’t much, as he’d been too nauseated after the last visit to Zack’s apartment to manage much food.  Plus, he does need to be cautious with his expenses these days.

For some unknown reason, Zack is standing in the middle of the cabin and squatting, and between the repetitive sound of his exhales and the jolting of the truck, along with the smell of his aftershave, Cloud thinks he might scream.  The helmet is like a vice around his head, and he’s not sure if he’s hot or cold.  It feels like a thousand needles are pricking into his skin.  Sweat is pouring down the back of his neck.  He can feel it pooling above his ears in the helmet and dampening his scarf.   

Sephiroth says to Zack that he’s too excited, and Cloud doesn’t want to hear it.  Zack is way too close, and when he tries to rub Cloud’s back, Cloud raises one hand to push him away.  It doesn’t work, though, and Zack is still tracing little circles into the fabric of his uniform.  

A particularly nasty bump has him groaning, and he can hear Sephiroth ordering the driver to stop the truck.

“I think it’s a dragon,” someone says, but it doesn’t stop Cloud.   As soon as the back door of the truck opens to the night air, Cloud springs out and dashes into the grass.  Before he knows what’s happening, he’s yanked his helmet off and is retching on his knees, finally ridding himself of all the poison.  

When the ringing in his ears subsides, he rips off his scarf and tosses it away.  Fuck the stupid uniform code.  The air feels like a relief, but he knows he can’t stay here.  Eventually, he’ll have to get back in the truck so that Sephiroth and Zack can complete their mission in Nibelheim.  He had said something about the reactor—but it had been hard to focus on Zack’s words. 

It must have been some kind of special punishment to send him back home in this uniform, or at least it feels that way.  Maybe the dragon will just swoop down and eat him whole and he can be put out of his misery in two seconds flat.  He’s just not that lucky.

The gentle touch of a gloved hand on his shoulder startles him.  He nearly jumps out of his skin, but gets it under control before he lands in the puddle of his own bile.  He spins around and grits out, “Zack, please don’t—”

“I’m not Zack,” comes the low reply.  It’s Sephiroth, his former hero, crouching beside him, head cocked to one side.  Sephiroth pulls his hand back and holds his palms up in a strange display of submission, but his hands are surrounded by a green aura.  Even here on the ground, he’s still enormous, and Cloud wonders how it can possibly be comfortable for him to squat like that in all the tight leather.  

“Cloud, is it?”

He nods in reply, but the motion has him reeling.  He covers his mouth, afraid he might humiliate himself yet again.  The glow around Sephiroth’s hands flares; he doesn’t touch Cloud this time.  The unfamiliar wave of the spell washes over him and the nausea recedes.

“The driver is fixing the engine.  Sorry we didn’t bring anything for motion sickness.”

“It’s fine.”  The mountain air feels so refreshing, and he wants to be clean of everything he brought with him from Midgar.  It’s not fine!  Fuck that place!

“Do you need another minute?  We’re not in any hurry.”

“No, sir, we should continue.  It’s my fault.”  He steadies his voice.  Wasn’t this about a dragon?  It hadn’t seemed like anything was wrong with the engine, and the road up the mountain pass is famously badly maintained.  In fact, in the still air, he can hear that the engine is still running and when Cloud turns to look, he sees the driver sitting in his seat, scrolling through his PHS as if nothing had happened.  

Where’s Zack?

“I’ll be fine.  It’s gross.”  He feels a little better, so it’s not a lie, and while the magical shimmer around Sephiroth’s hands has faded, Cloud wonders why he actually bothered to waste his mana on a lowly grunt like him. 

Sephiroth just looks at him, like a scientist peering into a microscope.  His eyes glow like Zack’s in the darkness, and Cloud’s stomach turns a little.  But to throw up in front of Sephiroth would be worse than being left behind here.  

Back then, Cloud had always studied the strange shape of his pupils in the magazines, wondering if it was a photographic effect, but up close, he can see the vertical slit, like a snake’s eyes.  The inhuman shape is oddly reassuring.  

With his arms covered, his expression serious, and his long, silver hair falling over his shoulders, he doesn’t look like Zack at all.  He’s just a man with dark circles under his eyes.  His hair actually looks frizzy, illuminated from behind by the lights of the truck.  Cloud thinks he can see some split ends.  They never showed that in the magazines.  There’s a lot of things they don’t show in the magazines.

Sephiroth doesn’t say anything, but he still doesn’t budge.  

Go away, please.  Don’t look at me.  

Cloud shakes his head and stares at the grass under his knees for a moment before looking back at Sephiroth’s pale face.  “I just get motion sick sometimes, that’s all.  You didn’t need to make us stop on my account.  It’s going to be fine.”

“You said that before.  You keep saying that.”  Sephiroth touches the bracer on his wrist, as if he’s preparing to cast another spell.  

“Thank you for healing me,” he mumbles.  Maybe Sephiroth wants him to be grateful.  “Really, sir, I know it’s against company regulations for people like me.”

“No, it’s not.”

Huh.  Maybe it’s different now that we’re out in the field. 

“Well,” Cloud sighs, “we’re almost there anyway.  Maybe another hour or so.”

“You know this road,” Sephiroth remarks.  

“Nibelheim is my hometown, sir.”

“I see.”  A pause.  “When I came over here, you thought I was Zack.”  Another pause, long and awful.  “Would that have been a problem?”

Those snake eyes are boring right into him.  Cloud realizes his hair is plastered with sweat, and he’s probably got vomit on his mouth.  If Sephiroth can see in the darkness, maybe he can see the marks on Cloud’s neck.  Green, green, green.  Disoriented, he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and starts putting his scarf back on, trying to formulate a response.  

“He’s fighting the dragon.  He can’t hear you.”  

Cloud’s brain is short-circuiting, his mouth opens and closes, yet nothing comes out.  To speak ill of Zack would be career suicide, but he doesn’t want to lie to Sephiroth.  He still doesn’t know how he feels about it.  About everything that happened.  He was too childish.  Naive.  He went out drinking.  He’s just feeling sick.  It wasn’t that bad.  What was he thinking?  He needs to speak up.  Use your words, Cloud, I’m listening, his mother used to say, but the words wouldn’t come, and she would just wait until he was ready.  Wait, what is Sephiroth even talking about right now?  

“Sir?” he manages.  Sephiroth just stares at him as if he’ll wait forever for Cloud to say something.  “I—I, uh, had the mako testing recently.”  It’s not a lie, not really.  He hadn’t felt terrible after the shot, and they’d given him a low dose.  But, he realizes with a twist of his gut, his cumulative exposure has been higher than the Science Department’s records would show.

“I see.”  Sephiroth’s lips press together in a firm line.  “You’ll sit up front with the driver.”

“That isn’t necessary.”

“Looking out the window will help you.  Or so I’ve heard.”

He’s probably right, Cloud thinks.  Sephiroth is standing now, offering Cloud his hand.  Cloud worries about taking it, having just wiped his mouth, having just been a disgusting wretch, being as dirty as he is, but if Sephiroth has a problem with it, he shows no sign.  Maybe he’s just being nice because he wants something.  But it’s not like Cloud can do anything about it, so he takes the gloved hand and gets back on his feet. 

The world tilts a little around him, and it hurts to try to cant his head back and look at Sephiroth directly, so he doesn’t bother.

When Sephiroth opens the door to the front passenger seat, he climbs in.  The step feels so high, and his legs feel weak, but the air is clearer up here.  He leans his head against the window as Sephiroth gets into the back of the truck. 

The driver doesn’t even look at him, just restarts the engine.  Cloud fixes his eyes on the stars, the sharp lines of the mountains against the dark sky.  He steadies his breathing like they’d taught him in combat training to slow his heart rate, counting the rhythm.

Another hand comes out of the darkness to rest on his shoulder.  He inhales sharply, and it doesn’t move.

“You okay, man?”  Zack is behind him, reaching into the passenger seat.  Cloud refuses to turn to look at him.  He knows what he’ll see.

He keeps his eyes on the road and clutches his helmet in his hands.  If he tries to speak, he doesn’t know what he’ll say.  Besides, Sephiroth had said to look out the window.

Zack is yanked back, and he hears Sephiroth again.

“Let’s have some quiet for the rest of the way.  It’s been a long trip.”  Sephiroth’s voice is even, but Cloud knows an order when he hears one.  He’s always wanted to be good, and this is an easy command to follow.  After all, he has to obey if he wants to make SOLDIER.