A heads-up: this fic is part of several very much Cleon/Strifehart-centric fics I'm going to be posting up in the next few days. I have a lot of files lamenting on my harddrive that I would like feedback or inspiration for, and this is among them.
Aka, it's not finished. More like an idea.
In this city, the daring play a game of Roommate Roulette.
The rules are simple; you attend a meet-up where several people have offered a home to stay in, all around a certain rental price range. You plonk your car keys in a jar next to theirs, knowing only what you can derive from the four or five minutes you're permitted to speak to them, and you begin living with them within the week.
It's all a bit underground, a bit mysterious, a bit 'why would people do something like that?'. In such a drab, gray city where life rarely has upheavals, it's the closest thing to excitement one can get. It attracts all kinds of suburban fauna, from a wife seeking to get away from the family for a time to singles seeking some kind of partner.
So that was where he found himself, on a Friday night, nigh regretting the decision. Apparently the one meet-up he'd actually gotten wind of was one where a 'secret millionaire' was attending; offering the same rental price as many other cheaper properties. As a result, it was packed. Absolutely full to the brim with a broad variety of those who permeated this scene, the two rooms with the jars on display smelling of heavily layered perfume and untended body odor, leaving his face twisted into a disgusted frown.
He sighed, rifling his fingers through platinum-blonde locks. He was easy on the eyes, that was for sure, but he generally generated an aura that left him a little unapproachable. He didn't mind; most people here he didn't really have time for. He was looking for a no-hassle roommate, not some big-shot millionaire.
He was situated at the far end of the second room, close to the corner, sipping a glass of complimentary champagne, looking between the people others were earnest chatting to. One seemed to be less popular than the others; he'd be spoken to briefly before they would flit away to someone more fanciful. He was dressed very casually, his brown hair neatly combed. He, too, was sipping the complimentary champagne, looking bored of the proceedings.
"Hey" said a voice, a sharp elbow suddenly digging into his arm. He turned, his eyes narrowing, to see a man a bit older than himself, dressed well, fairly ordinary; the type of guy you wouldn't give a second glance.
"This is your first roulette, right?" he asked, giving him a querying eyebrow. He gave him a short, silent nod, and the man sighed.
"Be careful of the brunettes. There's rumours going around about leases ending early…roulettes not being carried out."
"Brunette is a fairly narrow descriptor" he retorted, sipping his champagne. "Is that why he's being avoided, then?"
"No…he's not talkative. Keeps to himself."
He raised his eyebrows for moment, before the corner of his lip twitched up. "Excuse me" he said, before turning on his heel and walking up to the brunette.
He glanced his way, raising a single eyebrow. His brow shadowed his eyes, giving him a dark look, though it was somewhat softened by the roundness of his face. A faded, white scar arced from the left side of his forehead and down onto his right cheek, as though someone had taken to his face with a knife at some point and hadn't want to damage anything severely.
"Yes?" he asked shortly.
"Are you one of those offering a room?" he asked.
"Yeah" he said, nodding slightly.
"Not the talkative type?"
"Not really."
"Which one's your jar?"
The brunette's eyes widened, before a smile cracked his stoic persona. "That one. Over there" he said, gesturing to it. "We've barely talked. Have you really made up your mind?"
"I'm not interested in this whole interaction hullabaloo while we're all standing around here sipping cheap champagne and playing super-sleuth to who's a millionaire. You seem like the kinda guy I want as a roommate. So yeah, I've made up my mind."
The brunette's smile lingered, as he closed his eyes. "This should be interesting" he murmured, before opening them again. "You haven't introduced yourself."
"Right. Name's Cloud" said the blonde, tapping on his chest. "You?"
"Squall."
"Oh, good, we both have stupid names. Should make the mailman's day interesting" said Cloud casually, waving his hand as he walked over to Squall's jar, dropping his keys into it.
He then returned to the spot he'd occupied before talking to Squall, sipping his champagne and waiting out the night.
At 9pm, everyone was called into the main room, those offering a room sitting at the front of the crowd. Most were chatting amongst themselves, though Squall remained silent, the only hint of his emotion being the slight upturn of his lip; almost like he found the proceedings amusing.
"Ladies and gentlemen" said the host, tapping on a champagne glass to elicit silence. "Tonight, one person has received the deal of a lifetime; the chance to live in a penthouse apartment at the cost of an ordinary one, thanks to our 'secret millionaire'!"
The crowd clapped lightly, some chatting for a few seconds before silence fell again.
"He- yes, it was one of our male guests- did well to keep himself out of the eyes of most, but one chose his jar above the rest. One only! I have to say I was shocked.
Now…
Could 'Cloud Strife' please stand?"
What.
Cloud's eyebrows shot up underneath his hair in surprise. Well, one of them had to be a millionaire, but was he really the only one who'd put his keys in? There was supposed to be a raffle-type draw for who got the apartment in the end…
He tentatively stood up, and the crowd gave a half-hearted applause, though he could feel the heated gaze of a few. It wasn't like he'd intentionally picked out the millionaire, for the love of funk.
"Here, Cloud, your keys and a parcel containing all the information you should need" said the host, holding out a yellow envelope with his keys neatly placed on top. He walked up to the front, taking the parcel, before letting his eyes flick over to Squall.
The brunette gave him a sly smile. "You didn't actually know, did you?" he asked. "I think we're going to get along just fine."
A few days of packing his meagre belongings and organizing the move, Cloud found himself in the foyer of a ritzy building, feeling kind of awkward. He'd had his furniture moved into a storage locker, since the package had said none would be needed unless he insisted on personal pillows.
He sighed, looking at his things and scratching his head. He'd parked his motorbike in the underground car park nice and securely, and now there was just the issue of meeting up with Squall and getting a key to allow the elevator to access the penthouse floor.
"Cloud" said a voice from behind him, and he turned to see Squall, looking amused with his arms folded, only clad in a pair of black jeans and a white t-shirt.
"You really don't dress the part, do you?" said Cloud flatly, and Squall snorted.
"Should I be constantly clad in Armani?" he retorted, before walking over and holding a key out to him.
"You packed light" he mused, looking at his bags. "You know this is a year-long lease, right?"
"Didn't have much stuff to begin with" said Cloud with a shrug. "I've been living in a pub's attic right above a crazy stalker for the last six months, I wasn't trying to get any of my missing clothing back."
"Sounds rough."
"You know how they say don't stick your dick in crazy?" Cloud asked, taking the key. "Take it as many steps further as you can. Don't make promises to crazy. Don't talk to crazy. Don't save the life of crazy. All it will do is make your entire town hate you while crazy keeps giving you the look of 'I'm going to bite it off the moment my fingers get close enough to your zip'."
Squall gave him a half-bemused, half-incredulous look, before shrugging it off and heading toward the elevator.
It opened up and they stepped inside, the doors closing shut behind them.
"Put the key in here" said Squall, indicating to a slot in the floor selection panel. Cloud did so, and the elevator dinged loudly before heading straight upward.
"Pretty snazzy."
"I'd suspect anything's better than a pub attic."
Cloud smiled slightly, as the elevator dinged again and opened to a long hallway. The tiles were black and finely polished, the walls painted with a fine blue, a small table the only decoration in the hall, a large, leafy plant perched atop of it.
"This way" said Squall, beckoning him through the halls until he came to a door, opening it up and leading him inside.
Cloud gaped widely, walking in. Sunlight streamed through the windows into a beautifully furnished apartment, taking his breath away. Nothing seemed overly tacky or underappreciated; the house radiated with the aura of someone who knew their way around interior design.
"I'll show you your room" said Squall, turning toward the hall, and Cloud nodded. Squall took a few steps before opening the door to a medium sized room with a queen bed, built-in robes, a bedside table and a dresser. There were shelves that were mostly empty, save an alarm clock and an empty picture frame.
"If you need a mirror, you'll have to rely on the one in the bathroom, sorry" said Squall folding his arms and leaning against the door frame.
"This is fine" said Cloud, whirling around and giving him a bit of a smile. "How's cooking handled?"
"I get my meals delivered" said Squall with a shrug. "You can pick from the menu I get if you like, unless you want to cook. Kitchen has everything you need."
"If I cook, we'll split the ingredient costs?" Cloud offered, sitting down on the bed and beginning to pull off his shoes.
"If you wanna cook, I'll pay" said Squall, turning around and beginning to step out of the room. "Just tell me what you need and I'll get it."
"Yeah, then I'll get three kilos of saffron and a kilo of the world's finest black truffle" Cloud retorted, stepping up to the door frame and peeking out, throwing off his last boot. "Don't go flaunting your money around, dude, I have a job."
"Delivery boy, right?" Squall asked, turning back on his heel. "I did a little research on you before you moved in."
"Hey, I'd say the same if I could actually find out who the hell you are" said Cloud with a shrug, hopping back out of the room in just his socks. "There's records, but you're like god damn Batman. You're not actually Batman, are you?"
"Nah, I'm not spending my money on a ridiculous suit of armour and a tank. You find out what I do for a living, though?"
"Don't you run that hot-dog production thing? Pioneer of the greatest frankfurt recipe the world has ever known?"
"I didn't make the recipe, but I was the one who drove everything. I sold it off quite recently; I'm not one to stick around in that hellhole you h…people call a 'stock market'."
He shrugged lightly, before turning on the TV and sitting down on the couch, pulling a 3DS out of his pocket.
"You play?" he asked, waving the device.
"Ah…I have a PSP."
"If you can think of a multiplayer game you wanna play, tell me, I probably have a copy stowed away somewhere."
"I'll keep that in mind" said Cloud, putting his hands in his pockets as he strayed into the kitchen.
"Oh…Cloud, don't move my painkillers, ok? They're on the fridge."
"Got it" said Cloud, giving him a hand-wave before opening the fridge. It had a few stacks of meals, a bag of mandarins, a case of apple cider, and a block of dark chocolate that was half eaten.
"Can I grab a mandarin?" asked Cloud, and Squall gestured aimlessly in the air.
"Help yourself. That chocolate was meant for you but as you can see fairies ate it overnight."
"Right. Fairies" said Cloud in retort, pulling out one of the ripe, orange fruits and beginning to peel the skin off of it, sliding one of the wedges into his mouth.
He tapped the marble-topped bench, thinking. There was something that hadn't been mentioned in the housing outline that he needed to ask about, but he couldn't recall…
He snapped his fingers suddenly, remembering. "Right! I meant to ask. What's your policy on bringing people home?"
"I don't hear anything from outside my room at night, so just put something on your doorknob. If you get a more permanent partner I'd suggest warning me beforehand so I can give you some space."
"You're cool with it?" he asked curiously, eating another mandarin wedge.
"Everyone has their needs" he said shortly. "The general rule of this house is don't step on each other's toes. I'll give you plenty of warning if I suddenly decide to hold an orgy here or something."
"Are you the type to do that?" Cloud asked incredulously, and Squall chuckled.
"Nope. Takes a bit for me to actually get interested enough in someone to bring them home. I have my ecchi, I'm good."
"Too much info, man" said Cloud, turning to lean the other way on the bench.
"Would you prefer I say 'I have my yaoi, I'm good'?"
The unexpected comment caused Cloud to suddenly breathe half a mandarin wedge up his nose, leading to a half-choking spluttered sound emitting from the blonde as he tried to pull it out. Squall turned to see the spectacle and almost dropped his 3DS, covering his mouth to stop himself from laughing out loud.
"Please don't tell me you'd have a problem if I read yaoi?" asked Squall, still kind of laughing. Cloud shook his head, finally dislodging the mandarin wedge and wiping his nose, taking in deep breaths of air.
"No, no, I'd be cool with it, I just didn't expect the comment is all. You didn't set off my gaydar so it came off as out-of-the-blue."
"You should get your gaydar checked out then" he retorted, throwing his legs onto the back of the couch and beginning to play the 3DS upside down.
"Oh, so you're saying it's faulty?" Cloud asked slyly.
"Oh yeah, it's 100% faulty. I'm so flamingly gay that I'm on fire" Squall retorted sarcastically, before sighing loudly.
"If someone interests me and returns interest, I won't reject it on the basis of gender, past or present. So, yes, Cloud, your gaydar is minorly faulty, and no, I don't have a problem if you act on your bisexual tendencies and bring a guy home."
Cloud blinked a few times, before shrugging and putting the dislodged piece of fruit in the bin and continuing to eat the rest.
It was going to be an interesting year, he knew that much.