Archive of Our Own ^beta

Nibelheim was known for three things, if one looked closely —

Famous for their swords, their swordsmen and their untouched, perfect eggnog.

The latter will become a problem in precisely 15 hours.

"Cllloooooooud, please?!" Zack pleaded, violet eyes deployed in full Puppy Pout ™ Mode.

The pout no one could ever face without caving.

Cloud, currently in the middle of his final shift before the Yule break, inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly before responding, "Sir, I have three hours left on my shift. Unless you would like to take my shift or release me early per ShinRa Regulation 815 dash Zulu subsection 4b, I will remain at my station,"

The dark brows furrowed at that, wondering if he was, in fact, that desperate.

"... How long does it need?"

"It needs 15 hours, sir, and not a lick less," he rolled his eyes under his visor. "Tradition, sir." Zack appeared to be counting backwards on his fingers. "I will need to leave in an hour, sir,"

"Thank you —"

"Don't thank me just yet, sir," Cloud murmured, "You will have to fill the station, sir, there is no one else."

Zack laughed, "For that? Yeah, I'll cover the rest,"

"Noted, sir, I will leave in one hour."

"I will not be attending," Sephiroth stiffly allowed, "The Professor and I will be in for routine annual calibratio‐"

"Absolutely not!" Genesis hissed, "you have ducked the last six, you will not be missing this one!"

Angeal motioned for calm as he turned to Sephiroth and offered, "We rotate our duties in the field, why is this so different?"

"... I cannot get drunk. Therefore the egregious display of... frivolities are at best an annoyance," the flat delivery belied the last experience which had necessitated his removal from the annual roster.

As it was known among the SOLDIER Cadre? The Incident.

Zack, who had been uncharacteristically quiet, murmured, "I might be able to fix that,"

All three of them rounded on the recently promoted Zack.

"Fix what, Fair. Explain." He ordered.

"Have this Infantryman buddy, y'know, swears to his gods and mine that everything he drinks here tastes like pisswater and that he'd been having better since the age of 8,"

"... Go on," Sephiroth was now intrigued.

"He makes eggnog but like nothing you've ever tasted; made me swear off the commercial stuff forever."

High praise indeed from the Puppy, who drank more of the stuff than was strictly advised when the season came around.

"And then he tells me," here Zack paused, rummaged briefly through his Inventory and pulled out a bottle, "this is the virgin version,"

He popped open the top and all of them took a step back due to the smell.

"That's for the eight-year-olds in his town! He laces damn near Poison-Level for the true recipe and I've only had one cup," Zack's expression spoke volumes.

A single 8 oz glass had been enough to knock a recently promoted SOLDIER Second on his ass.

What could a full bottle do to Sephiroth, First of Firsts?

Cloud pulled his eggs over to the bowls, separating them with the utmost care.

Yolks went into one bowl, the whites into another, always by hand; Ma had been very specific.

He washed his hands, dried them thoroughly and poured the sugar, half into the yolks, before beating them with the hand mixer.

Cloud took care to whisper Nibel blessings over it, the same as his Da had, oh so many years ago.

Drizzling in the Nibel mead, cognac and a dash (only ever a dash, Ma's leftover from her travels before Nibelheim) of a deep green liquor, Cloud mixed until he was satisfied and then set that mix in the fridge.

The egg whites he sealed in their container, setting the heavy cream next to them, sealing the other half of the sugar and a single pinch of salt on the counter to wait.

Cloud awoke when his alarm went off, kicked on the percolator and scrambled a quick breakfast, knowing he had very limited time prior to his next tasking.

The second alarm went off and he got to work whipping the heavy cream into stiff peaks. Removing the yolks from the fridge, he folded in the whipped cream in steady, light strokes until it was the nearly the correct color. He set it back in the fridge to chill while he poured in the second half of the sugar into the egg whites.

Beating those into stiff peaks as well, he very gently folded those into the mix, sealed it once more and pressed a kiss to the cling wrap, much like his Ma had done for years and years.

Eggnog was made with love... love and an absolute metric fuckton of alcohol.

Cloud set his last timer and closed the fridge with a smile that would do a cat proud.

"We need a volunteer for the company punch bowl!"

None of the SOLDIERs moved.

Maybe if they didn't move, the Director wouldn't pick them for the punch bowl sacrifice.

Zack limbered up, made a good show of stretching, grinned wide and raised his gloved hand. "I volunteer, sir,"

The Director blinked, shook his head and then looked again.

Zack's hand was still high in the air, his fingers giving a little wave.

"... SOLDIER Second Class Fair. May I ask what you are volunteering for the punchbowl?"

"Eggnog,"

"Fair—!"

""Seriously, that again?!""

"Dude, at least once a year can you not—!"

Zack refused to wilt, "Perfect eggnog. That I will not be making,"

".... Explain yourself at once, Commander Fair," Lazard sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose before motioning for the Puppy to continue.

"May I reach into my Inventory and let you try?" The good ol' bait-n-switch.

Zack'd had it mastered from a very, very young age.

Sephiroth only knew because of Angeal's repeated griping about said talent.

Lazard had no such immunity, gods help them.

"Proceed,"

The bottle was produced, opened and suddenly Zack had the attention of every SOLDIER in the room.

"... perfect eggnog. Huh." Lazard's tone rarely reached above disapproval on a good day, let alone this close to the party.

The Director despised the party even more than Sephiroth himself and that was putting it lightly.

"And, if you'll permit, sir, Sephiroth as the General for this year's party,"

"What do I receive in return?"

"This entire bottle, sir,"

The narrowing of grey-blue eyes meant only one thing—

"Agreed,"

Not one person realized the disaster writ upon the wall, not even the Great Silver General.

"Zack, do I have to come?" He whined plaintively.

"Director Deusericus wants to meet the man behind the 'nog~"

"... very well, but I am not to be blamed for what happens when non-Nibel natives drink the stuff." Cloud sighed, carrying the jugs easily.

"Can I helllpp?" Violet twinkled and Cloud scoffed.

"No, Puppy, because you'll sample before the party,"

"Okay, that's fair," three, two... "Badum-tiss!!!"

Cloud did laugh at that, rounding the corner to stop at the sight of General Hewley.

The jugs kept him from saluting and General Hewley smiled, "Ah, just the man we were looking for!"

"Sir?"

"Angeal, please, we're off duty,"

"Ah, Cloud, then, I... suppose,"

"The famous eggnog man! Come, come," the arm wrapped around his shoulders by General Rhapsodos made him squeak. "You've saved us from another dreary holiday party!"

"Huh?"

"Ohhhh, right; Gen and Geal always get wrapped into the party 'cause Seph can't get drunk and he almost defenstrated an Exec who was hitting on him like he was a woman last time!" The way Zack's eyes glowed all the brighter meant it had been a sight to behold.

.... That also explained Zack's insistence on the proper eggnog.

"Obliged to help then, I've heard they're a nasty affair," Cloud managed out of sheer manners.

"Puppy, why aren't you this polite?" The General still had an arm around him and he gently but firmly wiggled out of the hold.

"Because Cloud has all of my manners!" The enthusiastic chirp made Cloud shake his head in wonder.

A knock had all of them looking to the door, silver giving away the person before it even opened all the way.

Sephiroth.

The man he'd left home for; the man he was currently meeting in the world's most befuddling match of unforeseen circumstances.

Zack grinned, wiggled the gigantic jugs and teased, "Ta-da! Make Seph drunk nog!!"

"... We'll see."

The small blond man who'd wriggled out from Gen's hold was rolling his eyes at Zack.

"We'll try, sir,"

"Ah-ah! What'd we tell you—" Gen chided within half a breath, shaking his finger.

"Cloud, maker of the eggnog that's hopefully strong enough for you to get through the holiday party," he offered his hand and Sephiroth shook it.

Calloused, firm and his tone, despite being out of his depths, was equally firm.

"Sephiroth, hoping it will do the trick,"

The smile he was greeted with rivaled a cat that had gotten the fish, the chicken and the cream for dinner in satisfaction.

That meant only three things; one, this Cloud was very sure that his drink would work, that he had encountered the doubt before and that Sephiroth would—finally—be able to tolerate the holiday party for the first time in years.

Finally.

They set up the extra large punch bowl, Cloud coating the glass in a thick Blizzard and a full Protect.

"Needs to stay chilled," he offered at the questioning looks of the SOLDIERs. "Also, drunk people are clumsy."

The eggnog was slowly poured in, the spoon also chilled and then Cloud portioned out five, absolutely minuscule, cups.

"Now?"

"Tradition," he countered, resolute in his stance, "first toast is always between the set-up crew,"

"Alright, Spike, could use a pre-game," Zack admitted with a shrug.

The glasses clinked, five glasses went up and three immediately came back down.

"Oh Holy," General Rhapsodos coughed, "that... might actually work,"

Zack hummed around his mouthful, knowingly smiling; smug bastard'd had vodka as a cradle warmer.

General Hewley thumped his chest and gave a thumbs up.

Sephiroth, however, had removed his for a different reason.

"... tastes familar," he smacked his lips, finished off the amount and frowned deeply. "I've never been to Nibelheim."

Cloud hummed, "There is always th' fire hazard?"

"Spike, not making sense here," Zack prodded as he sipped some more.

"ShinRa, they built a big mansion close to the Mako Reactor years n' years ago. It's an actual fire hazard at this point because they built it with untreated wood and th' elements have gotten to it but—Wouldn't surprise me if you visited and someone offed you some?" Cloud explained with a shrug. "Not entirely out of the question,"

"... hn."

"Mystery for another time, ey? For now, party!" Zack went for the bowl and three pairs of hands had to stop him.

"Zack, no!"

Cloud met the SOLDIER Director, shook his hand and then escaped into the crowd by parking himself next to a potted plant.

Sephiroth had found him, some 45 minutes or so into the party, looking like he'd gone three rounds with the Midgar Zolom except—

"Help,"

"... Too peopley, isn't it?" Cloud motioned him over sympathetically.

"Yes,"

"... Zack nor the others said you had to necessarily... stay, did they?" Cloud prodded gently.

The painfully grateful smile made Cloud squash his feelings with a ruthlessness better suited to a mission. "Then I would lose your company,"

"Suppose my plant hideaway has room for one more,"

Cloud, he learned, was a small, sarcastic man that had more quips under his breath about the party than a Wutainese saboteur had explosive tags.

Sephiroth was having the time of his life.

Late to the party, as he was to learn, was his Father.

"Sephiroth, what is the meaning of this."

"I was tasked with the holiday party. I cannot shirk my assigned duties, Father," he replied flatly, the faint buzz that had been going vanished within a flash.

"Who is with you?"

"No one, Father, merely an Infantryman," his look to Cloud was, hopefully, interpreted correctly: to get out while he is not an interesting subject.

"Only an Infantryman, sir,"

"No, I think not," Father nearly purred.

Sephiroth so rarely socialized outside of his SOLDIER only circle that it made Cloud a—

"Sir?" Cloud responded, plastic cup in his hand still full of good eggnog.

"Sephiroth does not chose his company lightly,"

"... I see, sir."

"Come, the party can be without you for a while, what was it?"

"Sgt. Strife, sir, and the answer is no."

"No."

"No, sir. We remember you in Nibelheim," blue flashed with unbridled disgust and something best left to no words at all.

Sephiroth knew it quite well.

Cloud was full of pent-up wrath.

Father, who had been reaching for Cloud, halted less than a hairsbreadth from him. "Nibelheim, you say?"

"Yes, sir,"

"All the more reason—Urghk!" One moment, Father was upright, the next, his face was being ground into the company carpet.

The white carpet installed specifically for the holiday party.

Cloud moved before he thought, the fluidity of his body screaming constant practice.

A truly magnificent arm bar, the shoulder cranked all the way back and Cloud's knee on his back.

"We remember the screams and the crying and the pain you caused," Cloud snarled, clear and precise as nothing he'd spoken prior, "and we vowed to never let it happen again. Sir."

"Ghgl, ghck—!" Cloud had broken his nose, Sephiroth was quite sure.

"I will let you up, you will remove yourself from my presence and that of Sephiroth's for the remainder of the night. If you do not— I'll defenstrate you out of a window. Understood, sir?" The Blizzara that whipped though his tone was that of the high Nibel Range and just as cutting.

The singular up and down of Father's ponytail made Cloud release him.

Father stood, swayed straightened himself out and swiped at the blood pouring out of his nose in disgust.

He looked more disheveled than Sephiroth had seen him in living memory.

Sephiroth hoped he could remember this; he hoped the Turks kept a copy of the tapes for him.

Cloud picked his eggnog back up like nothing had ever happened, drained the cup and took Sephiroth's hand to go get more.

Cloud escorted Sephiroth over to the bowl, shaking with suppressed anger.

He served both of them new cups, saluted and downed the entire thing in one go before refilling and turning to look at his hero.

The man had gone white as a sheet and had done his level best to protect Cloud from Professor Hojo from the start.

Ma had always taught him head-on confrontation was best in situations that meant danger.

The fact that it was Professor Hojo?

All the more reason; everyone knew he was not to be fooled with and to be put down as quickly as possible.

The hand reaching for him never quite made it to his shoulder.

Seeing red, Cloud's instincts— built after years of training with Tifa, his Ma and the mandatory combatives class three times a week— kicked in.

He snarled out something he could only ever dream of saying before releasing the man, the myth, the true monster of Nibelheim.

The fact that he looked like he'd gone a round with a Corvette was the icing on the cake.

Cloud would never be able to top this.

Oh well.

"... Do you wanna leave?"

"... Never thought you'd fucking ask," he blurted, cursing Zack six ways to Sunday.

Zack and the admittedly impressive eggnog.

Where had his life gone over the last 24 hours?

They made their way back to Zack's place, snuck in and burst into helpless giggles as they propped themselves against the door.

"Oh my gods, I'm going to be in so much trouble tomorrow," Cloud moaned softly, his cheek mashed against Sephiroth's shoulder.

"As if Father would ever admit to being attacked at the party," he scoffed.

Blue eyes glanced up with suspicion, "Load of Dragonshit,"

"He considers himself above such things," Sephiroth answered with a very careful shrug.

Sue him; Cloud was a very nice lapful.

"Above an ass-kickin? Ain't nobody above one," came the assurance born of experience.

"Not even me?"

At that, Cloud turned to face him properly, face solemn and said, "Especially not you, human is as human does,"

"... you still think I'm human?"

"Bleed, dontcha?"

"Suppose I do,"

"Human and therefore—"

"'Especially not you,'" he parroted, shaking his head. "How have I never met you before?"

"Got booted from the SOLDIER Program cause I'm a Mako wash-out, made it to Infantry an' well, was trying my damndest to be a good Squad leader," Cloud followed it up with tucking himself back in Sephiroth's lap.

"... I'm inebriated, not inhuman, Cloud," he sighed. "I'd like to do something with you,"

"Depends," Cloud laughed, "is it more of this?"

"More than this but I'm not even sure you're legal," he countered dryly.

That, of all things, made Cloud cackle quietly even as he said, "Turned 18 this past summer, have at,"

"That so?" He purred.

"Oh. oh!" the flush in the low light made Sephiroth smile, "now?"

"Now, later, whenever you'd like,"

"... Maybe a bit more eggnog first,"

Sephiroth surprised himself with his own laugh, "I suppose the night can't get any worse,"

The kiss was entirely worth the extra shot.

Routine had Cloud's eyes snapping open before the sun was up, the arm across his chest not so much.

He squinted, trying to remember the party and then squeaked.

"... Regrets?" The glowing green eyes were soft and resigned.

Like this had happened before.

"Like I told Zack," he replied with care, "I'm not responsible for what happens when non-Nibel natives drink the stuff. This? This I remember,"

The smile that spread, small though it was, made Cloud reach out and smooth his thumbs over the faint smile lines. "This I will want for as long as it suits,"

Silver brows furrowed, "I'm not familiar with that phrasing,"

"That, Sephiroth, is nomad practicality; my Ma was a Knight Errant before she loved my Da. They say for as long as it suits because it means that if it was meant to be it will stay, if it is not, it drifts in the winds where it belongs."

"Ah," Sephiroth hummed softly, "then I agree,"

Cloud yelped as he caught a glance at the clock.

"Shit!"

"Mn?"

"I have duty in less than an hour—"

"We have Yule off—"

"Not Infantry!"

"... how do you handle being carried?"

Cloud, miserable with motion sickness but on time, made sure his Squad was in their assigned spots.

"Sgt. Strife?"

"Specialist Vidar,"

"Permission to speak freely?"

"... granted," he allowed with a suspicious squint.

"You had party duty; regs state you have the day off,"

What are you doing here? rang loud and clear.

Cloud sipped some of his canteen water to ease his nausea and mulled it over.

"Truth for truth, Vidar; leadership is by example. If my troops are out, I am out. If my troop is on mission, I am on mission. I am the bridge over barbed wire, the wisdom in the wings and I am the first foot forward."

"We're here because we volunteered for the shift, to get more time with loved ones,"

"Mn,"

"It... wouldn't be fair to us to fill in your position with someone else,"

"Got it in one,"

Whiskey Troop relieved them at noon and Cloud dismissed his own to get home for the holiday.

He had a call to make to his Ma.

Cloud gestulated and spoke in a language he'd only heard in dreams.

Nibel.

He finished the call in Common, "Bye Ma, I'll be seeing you in a coupla months,"

""Bye Storm Cloud, love you,""

"Love you too, Ma," the second the reciever clicked onto the holder, Sephiroth cleared his throat.

"... Sgt. Strife,"

Cloud snapped out a smart salute, gave a soft smile as he responded, "General,"

"About that eggnog..."

Nibelheim was known for three things, if one looked closely —

Famous for their swords, their swordsmen and their untouched, perfect eggnog.

Two of her swordsmen brought together by the chaotic nature of her eggnog.

So much for a certain Calamity...