Forgive my naïvete, but this is my first Final Fantasy fic and I've also never been in a bar and/or drunk before in my life, so I'm sorry for any inaccuracy or OOCness here!
"Hey, Genesis?"
Angeal knew he couldn't expect more of a reaction from Genesis than what he got—a twitch of the eyebrow, a tightening of the mouth, a narrowing of the eyes. Taking a deep breath, he wandered towards the redhead leaning against the wall and glanced at the page of Loveless which Genesis's eyes skimmed so thirstily.
"I was thinking of checking out Lowell's new bar," continued Angeal, ignoring the signs telling him to go away. "It opens tonight, and he said I'd get free drinks at the party… along with 'my two buddies'. I guess that means you and Sephiroth," Angeal added jokingly, but Genesis barely looked up from his beloved Loveless.
"I don't need a drink," he insisted after a long pause, closing the book and glancing up. "I'm only eighteen. I have poetry to read, and… I still haven't surpassed Sephiroth. I need more training if I want to become a hero." His voice was resolute, though there was a hint of uncertainty there, and maybe a little bit of almost melodramatic regret.
"You've barely been outside all week," persisted Angeal, resting a gently persuasive hand on his shoulder—which was promptly shrugged off. "I mean, really outside, not just in the training ground," he amended, sensing the unspoken contradiction in his friend's rigid shoulders.
Genesis relaxed a little and finally met his eyes, though he still said nothing; Angeal gave his friend an encouraging smile. "Come on—you don't have to drink with me if you don't want. But it'll do you good to meet new people now and then. It'll be a guys' night out."
Something in those mako-blue eyes shifted thoughtfully; Angeal hesitated, knowing his friend teetered on the edge of acceptance. All that was needed was a final, tiny shove, and he knew exactly what push to give. "And… who knows? You might run into some of your admirers."
Genesis sighed exaggeratedly, and Angeal allowed himself a small but satisfied smile, knowing the argument was won. "All right, all right," mumbled Genesis, plainly suppressing his enthusiasm for dramatic effect. "I'll go with you. But… what are you going to tell Sephiroth?" he added, unable to resist smiling any longer. "He's not going to approve, you know."
Angeal paused. The other third of their trio was decidedly antisocial, and was—socially speaking—somewhat naïve. (Not to mention, he had apparently never been outside Shinra in all his almost-nineteen years.) What was he going to tell Sephiroth…?
"I'll say we're taking him out for the evening, just to show him what the world is like outside Shinra," responded Angeal, and Genesis nodded in agreement. "Just a short field trip. He doesn't have to drink with me if he doesn't want, just like you, but…" He paused before continuing, choosing his words more carefully this time. "It might be good for Sephiroth to—to see what real people are like, outside the bounds of the company."
Genesis merely smiled, somewhat secretively. "Understood. Then I'll meet you…"
"Outside my room at nine tonight. Powers willing, Sephiroth will be there too," supplied Angeal, and Genesis tucked his book under his elbow with a final nod before sauntering away.
Watching his friend's retreating form, he supposed worriedly this sort of thing might be considered peer pressure. The alarming thought crossed his mind a split second later that maybe this wasn't honorable. Both Genesis and Sephiroth were the minimum drinking age—legal, but in all likelihood inexperienced.
But then again, he reasoned as he turned his feet towards the training ground Sephiroth haunted, it wasn't as though Angeal was forcing them to come with him. He'd explicitly stated that they didn't have to drink with him. Really, this was for their benefit as much as his—just in a different way. And they needed to spend time together in a place that wasn't the battlefield, whether real or simulated.
Besides, Angeal could teach them a little about having fun, and Genesis and Sephiroth would prevent him from drinking too much. With any luck, it would bring them all closer together, just like any mission they'd shared before—but this time, without the risk of death or dismemberment along the way. (Probably.)
What could possibly go wrong?
"You go ahead and inebriate yourselves as much as you see fit," said Sephiroth adamantly, standing in front of the bar with his arms crossed obstinately. "I'm going back to Shinra for the night."
Angeal sighed heavily. After a somewhat hurried and disinterested tour through the slums, he had been this close to getting them both inside the bar before Sephiroth finally took note of where they were headed and halted; Genesis, however, stood leaning against the doorway, glancing around interestedly at the merriment inside. He at least seems curious.
"Come on," muttered Angeal, dropping his gaze, when staring soulfully into his friend's cold eyes failed to produce any results. He wasn't entirely sure why this had become so important to him, or why rejection was so painful when he had fully expected it, but the prospects for the evening somehow became considerably duller when Sephiroth was taken out of the picture. "Please? Just for half an hour."
Sephiroth said nothing, tapping his foot impatiently against the ground. Angeal gave an internal sigh and tried switching tactics, crossing his arms and turning away. "Fine. Go ahead and go back to Shinra. We—I'll be enjoying free drinks all night."
"Free?" asked Genesis, glancing back outside and raising his eyebrows.
"Yeah," replied Angeal, some curiosity creeping into his voice. "Not that either of you will be having any," he added, half-hoping either of them would say something to prove him wrong, but neither Genesis nor Sephiroth spoke—the former in contemplative silence, the latter in apparent disbelief.
Angeal eventually hung his head resignedly, wondering how the rest of the evening could feel so dismal at the possibility of Sephiroth's absence when he was always so blasted stoic—but, as he took a step towards the door, his friend finally spoke up.
"Half an hour," he said coolly, stepping deliberately forward and uncrossing his arms—though looking distinctly uncomfortable, perhaps at Masamune's absence, as his fingers skimmed where the hilt would ordinarily be. "No more. And I'm not drinking."
"That's fine," said Angeal, relieved, and ushered them both through the door before stepping inside himself.
He had expected the bar to be much more crowded than it was; though it was by no means empty, there were still many vacant seats—even several stools along the counter. Men and women talked and laughed together, as with all bars, but they all seemed to know Lowell on about as personal a level as Angeal did (which was, admittedly, not very). It seemed as though the guy had just invited his friends over for a private gathering.
Maybe the idea of free drinks for acquaintances was the only reason even this lot had come. Hell, it was the only reason Angeal bothered. He sighed and wandered towards the counter somewhat awkwardly, trying to catch Lowell's attention—he was in the middle of an apparently fascinating conversation with one of his female customers.
"So this is what a bar is like," remarked Sephiroth in his peripheral hearing, trailing a hand along an unusually smooth table. "I thought it would be… busier. More people, or at least more noise." He sounded as dissatisfied as he had expected, but then, Angeal could never tell his disappointment from a mere observation.
Genesis stared up at the overhead fans, lamps shedding dim light over the dingy bar. "Who knows," he murmured. "Maybe more people will come as the night wears on." He cleared his throat slightly, plainly about to recite another passage from Loveless, but Angeal was too occupied with Lowell's greeting to listen.
"Why, Angeal!" exclaimed the barkeep, clasping his hand suddenly and startling him. "It's good to see you. Are those two fine young gents your friends?"
"Yeah," responded Angeal with a smile, after a jokingly appraising glance at them as they sat in an isolated corner. "Listen, can we get a couple waters and a beer? They're… new," he added lamely, but Lowell only gave a knowing chuckle and disappeared behind the counter to fetch the drinks.
"Let me know if they change their minds," grunted the barkeep, slamming a few glasses on the bar hard enough that Angeal winced, certain they'd break. "There's plenty for everyone. After all, I'm not opening to the general public until tomorrow."
"What?" frowned Angeal, as Lowell filled one of the glasses haphazardly with water.
"Apple cider for me, please," called Genesis's voice from the table in the corner, though his request sounded a little more like a command. "Banora, if you have it."
Lowell nodded once at the order, and turned back to Angeal (who blinked in surprise at Genesis, having assumed he wouldn't take advantage of the free drinks). "Well, maybe it'll be a little less quiet in a few minutes—I took the liberty of inviting the Keepers of Honor," he said thoughtfully, taking out a jug of Banora's Best; Angeal groaned. "Their drinks won't be free tonight, so your presence is a guaranteed money-maker."
He poured the pale cider smoothly into another tall glass; Angeal seethed silently to himself—was this the only reason he was invited along? Would the other fan clubs show up too? "Is there a problem?" he added, frowning at Angeal's expression, and he hastily rearranged it into an unconvincing smile.
"No, no," he assured reluctantly. "Everything's… fine." Unwilling memories flitted through his mind of the first and last time he had met his fan club; they had been nice enough, eyes shining with the desire to please, but after spending an hour in their obsessive company, he finally drew the line at trying to strip him and walked out (with the help of Genesis and Sephiroth, that was).
They had done all that sober—and they were going to be drinking tonight?
Without another word, Angeal scooped up the three drinks and departed to the table, trying to conceal his nervousness. With any luck, he would be able to hide amongst the admittedly small crowd, or perhaps leave before things got too ugly. There was no need to worry Genesis and Sephiroth, Angeal told himself. There was always a chance that the fan clubs would be too widely scattered to show up all at once.
"Something wrong?" asked Sephiroth, raising an eyebrow as he claimed his water and took an almost tentative sip, as though afraid Angeal had gotten him something alcoholic instead.
"…No," lied Angeal, ignoring the twinge of guilt accompanying the single word. He wasn't accustomed to lying; it wasn't an honorable thing to do—but it would be for the best. Maybe. He mentally swore that if that minor falsehood got them into major trouble at any point during the evening, he would forswear saying anything but the absolute truth forevermore.
"You're a terrible liar," noted Genesis, taking a tiny sip of his cider and frowning at the flavor. "What is this?" he added, licking his lips confusedly. "I thought I asked for apple cider. This tastes… different."
"Genesis," sighed Angeal, sipping his own beverage. "That is apple cider."
"Oh," was Genesis's only comment, before he took a deeper, experimental draft. "It's not bad," he decided loftily. "It just doesn't taste like I remember it. It's less… bubbly." He stared into his glass as though trying to remember something; Sephiroth gave the ghost of a smile and slid his fingers along the condensation on his glass.
"Ah," realized Angeal abruptly; Sephiroth turned an even, dryly curious gaze on him. "You're thinking of sparkling apple juice."
Genesis blinked, remaining focused on the liquid sitting innocently before him. "Didn't you always say it was cider?"
"Well, yeah, but—" That was just to make it sound cooler, like we were adults drinking actual cider, he moaned internally, but Genesis cut him off before he could voice it.
"Then this must just be another variety of 'sparkling apple juice'," reasoned Genesis, downing another few defiant mouthfuls despite Angeal's incoherent protests. Fine. If he doesn't want to listen…
"That's one way to put it," mumbled Angeal after a disbelieving silence, taking a drink himself. At this point, he needed one even more; he wouldn't get much peace once his fan club showed up, and everything was already a little off-track since Genesis was actually joining him.
Sephiroth gave a light sigh, losing interest, and stared out the window with boredom in his every aspect. "Twenty-seven minutes to go," he breathed, tapping his fingers against the table in an impatient beat of four. "And you've already managed to convert Genesis. Just wonderful."
"You make it sound like it's a religion," protested Angeal.
"And if it was, you'd be a heretic," added Genesis, smiling, and generously proffered his cider with an unspoken challenge.
"I'm fine with that," responded Sephiroth forcefully, casting an annoyed glance back at the redhead, who shrugged and took another long sip of his drink himself. "Alcohol is a coward's way of gaining courage, a weak man's way of making himself attractive, and a fool's way of having fun." He pronounced the words so carefully that Angeal wondered whether he was quoting someone.
"I guess we're weak, foolish cowards, then," shrugged Angeal, taking another, remorseless draft as he glanced out the window. A few drops fell from the gray clouds that so ominously covered the sky.
"Speak for yourself," retorted Genesis, snorting, and drew Angeal's attention back to the conversation at hand. "I'm just having apple cider."
"That's alcoholic," pointed out Sephiroth flatly, though Angeal thought he saw a glimmer of amusement in those wintery eyes at his friend's reaction: Genesis's eyes widened, and for a moment Angeal thought he was going to flip the table at this obvious revelation. Instead, however, he merely shrugged and drained the glass.
"I'm going back for seconds," he announced, but Angeal (swallowing his mouthful and setting down his cup reluctantly) grasped his arm firmly to keep him seated.
"Wait a little while," he grunted. "You're a rookie. Don't rush it."
Genesis rolled his eyes, but his muscles relaxed, and Angeal removed his hand. The last thing he needed was for his friend to drink more than he needed to before it even started setting in; that single glass was more than enough for a virgin drinker.
"Why did I think this was a good idea," mumbled Angeal, taking another, somewhat despairing drink. I'll never assume Genesis will resist temptation again, he vowed. He had assumed he and Sephiroth would simply keep him company, since they'd never shown any interest in the idea of alcohol before; he hadn't wanted to have to keep an eye on a drunk Genesis. Glancing out the window didn't offer him any relief: a procession of females (with a few males here and there) wound excitedly towards the entrance, hustling through the intensifying rain.
Sephiroth gave a wry smile. "The Keepers of Honor?" he asked, turning his gaze sideways on Angeal, who leaned his head on his elbow in defeat. There goes the evening. "Well, isn't this an interesting development."
"You won't be so calm if the Silver Elite decide to show up too," snapped Angeal, his weariness sharpening his tongue, but Sephiroth merely chuckled before his eyes widened, his laugh dying: he had apparently remembered that he no longer had Masamune to defend himself.
"…Will they?" he asked, and that was almost worry in his voice. Angeal couldn't suppress what he hoped was an enigmatic smile, saying nothing as he relished the rare opportunity to unnerve Sephiroth.
"I wish Red Leather would come, too," sighed Genesis dreamily, staring out the window and interrupting Angeal's speculation. Of the three of them, he had been the most thrilled to have a fan club, and more than once had suggested on their less eventful days that they go visiting.
(Angeal invariably refused on the basis of his first encounter with his fan club, and though Sephiroth had never met his, he had no wish to.)
"You just might get lucky," responded Angeal darkly, as the first of the club streamed into the bar, bringing with them the sound of enthusiastic chatter as they removed their slick coats. "Some of them are in more than just my club. They might call their… comrades."
"Really?" asked Genesis, beaming, and Sephiroth hid his face in a black-gloved hand.
"Look, it's Angeal!" squealed one of the younger members, spotting him at last, and Angeal gave a low sound of dismay before turning to face his fans with an attempt at a smile: Sephiroth, dragging a protesting Genesis after him, departed to another corner. Angeal couldn't tell whether that was an attempt to escape the smothering the crowd, or a way to deliberately free up their seats for the fans.
"Hello," said Angeal awkwardly, sipping his beer; he heard several fans say to Lowell something that sounded suspiciously like 'I'll have what he's having'. It's just a regular beer! It was all very well to be a role model and all, but this was going to get out of hand pretty fast if no one intervened.
"He spoke to me!" tittered a few girls, blushing, and Angeal tried not to sigh. It's flattering, he reminded himself, trying to bolster his courage—painfully aware of Sephiroth's sly and somewhat sadistic half-smile from across the room. Even if Shinra started it, they all joined willingly. They really do like me.
And he cleared his throat, reluctantly preparing to talk about his latest dreams… leaving out the one where they all leave him alone with his friends for just—one—evening.
Somewhere within the next fifteen minutes of incessant hero-worship questions, some answers of which Angeal had to repeat quite a lot since more club members seemed to flood through the door by the minute, Genesis got hold of another glass of apple cider. And Sephiroth let him? growled Angeal internally, glancing over at his friends.
"Nine minutes," mouthed Sephiroth expressionlessly, whacking Genesis on the back as he accidentally inhaled a few drops of cider, staring towards the door hopefully with watering eyes. Angeal traced his gaze unwillingly and found, to his dismay, that the other two fan clubs had arrived as well.
Lowell, meanwhile, plainly couldn't be happier with this turn of events.
"Nine minutes," mouthed Angeal, raising his eyebrows as he turned back to Sephiroth—whose eyes were wide in something akin to horror before he hastily turned away, muttering something to himself.
Genesis, meanwhile, simply laughed and swaggered over to Red Leather, nearly all of whom giggled at his drink-exaggerated mannerisms as he greeted them. After a few somewhat sensual murmurs were exchanged, undoubtedly passages of Loveless, he proceeded to clamber onto the bar and sit there like a model might, half-full glass of apple cider still sparkling in hand as he conversed easily with his adoring fans. At least someone is enjoying himself.
The Silver Elite preferred the tactic of shooting Sephiroth covert glances in the hopes that he would come to them first, as with Genesis. Evidently, they were too intimidated to approach despite the fact that he was unarmed; his shoulders were rigid, his eyes focused straight in front of him. Angeal knew from experience that disturbing him in that state could leave you with a few scars—and apparently, somehow, so did they.
"Angeal?" asked one of his few male fans, resting a tentative hand on his shoulder. "Is something wrong?"
He almost laughed. "No," he said, emptying his glass and setting it down; someone immediately scuttled off to get him a refill, which he had no time to decline. "I'll be fine," he continued. After tonight, that is. "We all will."
"Hear, hear," said his fans nonsensically, toasting him, and drank up.
The next time Angeal looked up, Sephiroth wasn't in the corner anymore. He was about to panic when he noticed that his friend was sidling towards the door as smoothly as possible through the crowd (several of his fans swooned when he brushed past them), but upon reaching the door, he was blocked not by any of his fans, but by Lowell himself.
"Another half hour?" he pleaded, staring up at the easily one-foot-taller general. "You're making me good money."
"I'm not interested in giving favors," returned Sephiroth icily. "Get out of my way."
"I hear SOLDIER pay isn't that great, even for First Class," continued Lowell desperately as Sephiroth tried to push past him. "I'll give you ten percent of my profits tonight if you stay another hour!" Angeal blinked, surprised; not only had he never thought Lowell would offer something like that, but Sephiroth seemed to be actually considering it.
Before either of them could say anything, however, Genesis leapt down from the counter with somewhat clumsy grace, swaying a little in place. "Sephiroth, come here," he ordered, with all the authority of his noble upbringing. "See," he added, addressing his fans, "I'm not only well-versed in the most beautiful of poetry, but I can dance too!"
Angeal hid his face in his hand. Of course Genesis could dance, being a nobleman's son, but he was hardly in any fit shape to prove it, and he was never very good to begin with. (He cited his lackadaisical attitude towards his dance lessons as stemming from the fact that he was only allowed to dance with girls—a distaste he never fully overcame.)
"I'm not going over there," stated Sephiroth calmly, as though reasoning with an irrational child. In a way, that was true.
"But, I need a partn—!"
"Dance with one of them," snapped Sephiroth, momentarily losing his cool. "You don't want for admirers."
"But," began Genesis petulantly, glancing around his fans uncertainly. By no means was he afraid of women, Angeal knew, but they had a tendency to throw themselves at him, and with something as intimate as a dance… well, anything could happen. Hell, Angeal would be nervous in Genesis's position, and he at least swung that way.
Sephiroth, however, was not about to let the matter go.
"Look, if women make you so uncomfortable, dance with him," he added scornfully, striding forward and shoving one of the male members of Red Leather into Genesis's arms (the man looked simultaneously elated and mortified—and then heartbroken as he was immediately dropped to the floor).
"I want to dance with you," enunciated Genesis, narrowing his eyes in something of a challenge and squaring his shoulders. Sephiroth, meanwhile, remained completely at ease, but there was a dangerous aura about him. The eyes of both Red Leather and the Silver Elite flicked between the two as silence slowly expanded through the room.
Sephiroth merely walked back towards his corner, nodding to Lowell by way of sealing their deal, and sat in the corner. But Genesis followed, setting down his apple cider on his way; as Sephiroth turned harshly around to reprimand him, Genesis tucked an aggressive hand around his back, clasped his right hand in his left, and pushed him back roughly in the beginnings of an ungainly waltz.
Angeal wasn't quite sure what to think, other than Genesis just blew his own cover after years of secrecy!, but thinking was not necessary as Sephiroth deftly sidestepped. Extricating himself easily from Genesis's hand, he twisted his other arm behind his back and whispered something menacing in his ear. Only when Genesis nodded tremblingly, eyes wide and perhaps a little watery, did Sephiroth release him disgustedly and stalk back to his corner.
Red Leather immediately rushed to make sure Genesis was okay—just dealing with the pain of rejection, thought Angeal sympathetically—but Angeal's focus was on the single member of the Silver Elite that somehow got up the courage to follow Sephiroth. It was beyond him how, after that display of strength, anyone would dare to pursue him… but Angeal had his doubts about whether fan clubs were human.
She did have the good sense to hang back, noted Angeal; Sephiroth at first ignored her, but then he said something scornful—then, he raised his eyebrows, plainly surprised—and finally, he nodded. Only when the fan signaled Lowell did Angeal realize what was going on. She's buying him a drink!
Ignoring his fans, he rose from the table, his new mission being stop that fan. If he knew anything about members of fan clubs, it was that they used incredibly underhanded methods to get what they want, and he wouldn't put spiking beyond them. Especially given that Sephiroth wasn't drinking of his own volition.
But a wavering glimpse of red distracted him. Genesis, reading some miraculously clear passages from his ever-present copy of Loveless, was flailing his hands to try and maintain balance on the edge of the counter where he teetered.
"When the war o' the beasts brings about the world's end," he recited, surprisingly clearly, "the goddess descends—whoa!" He plummeted towards the ground, tumbling dramatically over several of his fans, who squeaked in mingled pain and delight.
"Are you okay?" asked Angeal, charging over and trying not to trip over anyone. In a roomful of people, that's easier said than done, and he stumbled a couple times on his way over before finally kneeling next to his friend, who hadn't moved since the fall. It's all my fault! I told him to come with me. What if he's hurt on my account?
"From the sky," continued Genesis placidly, pointing up at the fans with a dizzy smile, and Angeal heaved a half-relieved, half-exasperated sigh. "Wings of light an' dark spread afar. She guides us to bliss, her gift everlasting." Angeal winced as his equally tipsy fans applauded, the sound echoing oddly loudly in the crowded room, and turned his attention urgently back to Sephiroth.
It was too late: an empty glass stood on the counter, and the girl sat next to him—they shared a smile, Sephiroth's eyes unfocused as he reached for her face. Angeal supposed there were worse fates; at least the girl was actually kind of pretty—but then he remembered that he wasn't thinking totally straight himself, and shook his head. He had to keep things from getting out of hand, or he'd never forgive himself; he could already see the Silver Elite edging towards him with jealousy burning in their eyes.
Stepping forward without thinking brought his boot down on some poor young girl's hand, and she let out a plaintive squeal: Angeal knelt next to her anxiously. However much he disliked the concept of having a fan club, he certainly didn't wish any of them harm. They were good people at heart, after all—just a little… overzealous.
"Are you all right?" he asked concernedly, feeling her hand for any breaks.
"I can't feel my fingers," she responded, embarrassed; her face was completely red as he flexed her digits experimentally, watching her face for any pain. If Angeal had to guess, she wasn't even legally old enough to be in a bar, not that Lowell seemed to care so much; did she think he'd tell on her? "So, yeah, I guess," she added, smiling, though she was still unable to meet his eyes.
"Well, if it starts hurting, let me know," responded Angeal, scuffing his foot carefully along the ground (not wanting to injure anyone else). "Since, you know, it's my fault. I'll try and fix it, too—if it's something I can help with."
"You're so noble, Angeal," purred one of his older female members, and he dodged her hand as she raised it to his cheek to caress him. "Offering to help a girl out like that? That's my kind of man."
"Sweet and generous," added another, advancing towards him.
"Look, I'm really flattered and all," said Angeal frantically, backing away from the increasingly drunk group, "but I was the one who stepped on her, so of course I'm going to try and help out!" Part of honor is fixing problems you create, he thought frustratedly, leaning back and forth to try and see what Sephiroth was up to. Isn't that a thing people do anymore?
"Admits his mistakes," said another girl, as though she was taking notes for what to look for in her ideal man, and Angeal decided there was no use in trying to talk to these people anymore and got up, gradually managing to move through the crowd to an empty spot in plain view of Sephiroth's corner.
The first thing his eyes took in was that the girl who offered him the drink was sobbing; drunken hiccups shook her body as she sat in the stool next to Sephiroth, her back turned to the scene behind her. And then Angeal took note of said scene, and almost wished he hadn't, in the interest of keeping his friend's sexuality out of the picture.
Sephiroth sat in the same spot as before, but most of him was obscured by another girl on his lap, her lips locked with his and her fingers passionately entwined with his hair. One of the few males brushed his lips against his cheek, fingers trailing over his partially exposed chest. A third fan knelt next to his bar stool, moving her hand cautiously up his thigh, dangerously close to his waistband. Several other members of the Silver Elite hovered nearby as though waiting in line, looking murderous.
Angeal rubbed his eyes, but he was most definitely not having a drunk hallucination. I wish, he groaned. Encouraging his seemingly numbed mind and body to take action, he charged forward, pushing roughly past Silver Elite, who complained at his presumption. Yeah, I'm presumptuous. Because I'm the one taking advantage of him while he's drunk!
"Come on, Sephiroth," sighed Angeal, gently kicking the groupie on the ground away from his pants. "It's time to get out of here," he continued, pushing the man away from his chest. "And fast," he added, finally pushing off the girl on his lap.
But Sephiroth was laughing for once, starry-eyed, and the girl who had been kissing him giggled hoarsely at him—and nobody was going to let Angeal drag him away by the crossed suspenders without complaining. Even Sephiroth wasn't willing to give up his new hobby without a fight; Angeal considered himself lucky that his friend's strength wasn't nearly the level it usually was, or else he'd never be able to drag him all the way back to a couple bar stools in the thick of the other two clubs.
Sephiroth glared at him waveringly, but said nothing.
"Look," sighed Angeal, by way of explanation. "When you're drunk, there is no such thing as consent. Sober Sephiroth is going to be furious with me if I let you, Drunk Sephiroth, keep doing… whatever it was you were doing."
"We're the same person," retorted Sephiroth, surprisingly coherent.
"He's not going to understand that," responded Angeal patiently, putting a steadying hand on his shoulder. How did I get to be playing designated driver?! I was the only one who wanted a drink in the beginning, and now look at me! he moaned inwardly.
Sephiroth, meanwhile, said nothing, though whether that was out of sullenness or simply having forgotten whatever his train of thought might have been, Angeal couldn't tell.
"So," he continued cautiously, "you're going to stick by me for the rest of the evening, you're not going to go near the Silver Elite, and the Silver Elite are not going to go near you. Agreed?" He held out his hand for a handshake.
Sephiroth refused to take it, and instead cast a wistful glance over his shoulder at his fan club.
"I lived in Shinra all my life," he began with as much dignity as possible, spending just a little too long on the 'Sh'. "I was never allowed to have friends. I was never allowed to have girlfriends or boyfriends or any kind of friends. And here I am with friends."
"Friends don't do that!" hissed Angeal. He was even more far gone than Genesis at this point, and that was something he never needed to see. "Friends don't—don't get you dead drunk and then try to get in your pants! Sephiroth, if you want to do all that, go ahead and do it, but not like this." He pulled his friend back into his seat; he had eagerly jumped up at Angeal's 'permission'. "Ask Sober Sephiroth what he thinks in the morning."
Sephiroth grumbled a little to himself, but could apparently find no reason to disobey, and settled for looking forlornly back at his corner.
Angeal shook his head, tracing his gaze. "A virgin like you shouldn't be having a foursome on your first go, anyway," he mumbled. "It's just not fair." He sighed, dropping the issue, and leaned against the counter, closing his eyes and wondering where exactly his plans had gone wrong. 'Hey, Genesis' seemed as good a place to start as any.
Another hour later, Angeal was trudging home in the rain with a pocketful of twenty percent of Lowell's gil (having talked him up from his initial offer since they stayed longer than anticipated), Sephiroth slung over his shoulder, and—most obnoxiously—Genesis laughing giddily. The redhead stumbled merrily along behind them, occasionally bursting into snatches of song his fans had taught him that evening. He didn't remember the words, of course, but Loveless apparently made a great musical, at least as far as he was concerned. Angeal begged to differ.
"Remind me never to go out drinking with you two again," he muttered half to himself, readjusting the unconscious Sephiroth on his back. That was much more of an adventure than he had wanted. Was it too much to ask for just a quiet night out with the guys, without having those ridiculous fan clubs stalking them everywhere?
He supposed it had brought them a little closer together, in that he had discovered Sephiroth wasn't always as asexual as he acted, but then, he had never really wanted to know. And, he had also discovered that his long-haired friend actually looked pretty good in a braid—though that had only been because the Silver Elite pounced on him the second Angeal was distracted with making sure Red Leather didn't succumb to infighting.
"Will do," hummed Genesis cheerfully, and belted out another makeshift chorus.
I am never going to lie again, growled Angeal to himself, and sped up.
Angeal awakened the next morning to the unmistakable sounds of Sephiroth's body reprimanding him for accepting a drink from that girl, and opened his eyes, expecting the worst—but fortunately for him, Sephiroth had evidently been conscious enough to drag himself to the adjacent bathroom first.
He may have lived in a private room in the science department all his life—a fact of which Genesis and Angeal were both initially jealous, since he'd never had to deal with a roommate—but he'd never bothered to say where it was, so Angeal had to drop him on his bedroom floor and hope he didn't drown in his own vomit before morning. (Not that he didn't trust Genesis… but, he really didn't trust Genesis.)
Angeal reluctantly approached the bathroom, not without some apprehension, and found that Sephiroth was kneeling next to the toilet, looking distinctly haggard; his silver hair still hung down his back in a loose and disheveled braid, and his pale skin was clammy.
It occurred to him that he'd never seen Sephiroth in this vulnerable a position. In all likelihood, no one else had either. Of course, the dominant emotion in his heart was pity at the moment—he'd been there before—but part of him couldn't deny that there was something a little bit satisfying about seeing that he was in better condition than the supposedly invincible Sephiroth.
"Good morning," said Angeal, as quietly as possible, and automatically flicked on the light switch as he entered the room: Sephiroth flinched, shielding his eyes from the light (which Angeal immediately turned off again, wincing in sympathy).
"Please don't shout," he muttered huskily, and Angeal blinked in surprise. Please?
There was a long pause, during which only Sephiroth's ragged breathing could be heard, before Angeal said quietly, "That's a good look for you," indicating his hair and doing his level best to suppress his amused grin.
Sephiroth stiffened and rose to his feet, staring into the mirror with horrified eyes, before whirling around and opening his mouth to ask something—but he turned just a little too fast and pitched forward, still disoriented: Angeal caught him and gently guided him into the bathtub, fully clothed, and turned on the water.
Though he initially jumped at the chill, Sephiroth quickly grew accustomed to it and rinsed his mouth out thoroughly before bowing his head to let the water seep under the back of his leather coat. Angeal, meanwhile, carefully undid the braid in his hair; when he adjusted his arm to support his friend's shoulder, Sephiroth cleared his throat with a slight grimace and met his eyes earnestly.
"What, exactly, happened last night?" he asked.
Angeal sighed heavily after a long pause, during which their eyes remained locked, before dropping his gaze. "Did you honestly black it all out?" he asked uncertainly, by way of finding out what he should say.
"Yes," affirmed Sephiroth, annoyed, with just a little too much intensity—and he shut his mouth a moment later, looking vaguely queasy. Angeal, meanwhile, considered his options. One, joke around with him and say something happened that didn't. That was a bad idea in that it could get him killed. Two, tell him exactly what happened. That was a bad idea because Sephiroth might massacre his fan club. Three, lie and say nothing happened. Breaking his newfound vow might be the best option after all.
"Nothing happened," he said, unable to meet Sephiroth's eyes, but the phrase was cut off by Genesis's hasty arrival. He didn't look that much better than his friend, but he at least was a little steadier on his feet (Angeal still hadn't retracted his hand lest Sephiroth fall over).
"Angeal! Why did you take us back when we were all enjoying ourselves?" he griped, and Sephiroth winced at the volume. "Even Sephiroth loosened up a little," he added, and though Angeal gave him a pointed stare, Genesis was more focused on Sephiroth's widening eyes; a frown flitted across his face.
There was a long silence.
"So, after last night, did you change your mind about the Silver Elite?" asked Genesis cautiously, and Angeal bowed his head, grimacing. If there was one thing he shouldn't have said, it was that. He glanced worriedly back towards Sephiroth, whose eyes were closed as he leaned his forehead into the spray; his expression remained impassive, but Angeal could tell he was forcing it to remain so.
"I have no idea what you're talking about," he responded stiffly, voice barely audible over the pounding of the water. Though the words he spoke were truthful, they held a dangerous edge to them, and Angeal for one didn't want to test its sharpness. "Now, get out."
Genesis assessed the situation carefully before bowing in mock obedience. "Even if the morrow is barren of promises," he began, retreating, and Sephiroth and Angeal both mouthed the words alongside him as he continued, "nothing shall forestall my return."
Angeal was about to attempt to explain Genesis's words by downplaying the events of yesternight, but Sephiroth merely closed his eyes and leaned against the wall, murmuring wearily, "A yes or no answer will suffice. Did I…" He swallowed. "Did I bed a stranger?"
"That's the fanciest way of saying 'one night stand' I've ever heard," chuckled Angeal, but Sephiroth opened an eye to glare at him. Angeal recoiled; now was definitely not the best time for jokes. "No," he decided, after a hesitation, and looked up with an effort.
"I heard that pause!" snapped Sephiroth, swallowing convulsively and staring at the floor. Angeal merely laughed, causing him to wince and grit his teeth, before clapping him on the shoulder as gently as possible.
"If and only if I hadn't intervened, the answer would be 'yes'," explained Angeal. "But lucky for you, I was there to help out. They spiked your drink, and things could have gotten… well, ugly."
"Thank you," said Sephiroth, sounding distinctly relieved. Thank you? It seemed odd to hear something like that from his mouth; even though he was usually quite courteous, everyone was so used to Sephiroth being on a higher plane of existence that to hear him refer to anyone as an equal in that way was unusual.
"The last thing I remember with any sort of clarity is… dancing with Genesis," he muttered, and another possibility seemed to occur to him as his eyes widened in alarm. "All right, so I didn't bed a stranger. Did I—"
He couldn't finish the sentence; his throat sounded as though it was trying to close in on itself rather than allow the possibility to be spoken. "Did I—" he repeated helplessly, and storm clouds were already gathering in his eyes in preparation for a 'yes'.
"Are you seriously worried about that?" asked Angeal apprehensively.
"I've heard alcohol can adversely affect one's judgment," responded Sephiroth tersely, with just a hint of sarcasm. "Bedding someone when drunk, for whom one has no feelings when sober, is hardly an unusual occurrence… from what I hear."
"Everyone who swings your way has a crush on you," sighed Angeal, withdrawing his hand cautiously. "But not all of them are devious enough to act on it when you're vulnerable. Only a few idiots in your fan club even tried, and I was there to stop it." He paused. "Genesis knows better, even when he's drunk."
Sephiroth nodded and shut off the water, leaning against the wall. "Thanks," he added unreadably, and Angeal stepped aside, ready to leave him alone. As he walked to the door, however, Sephiroth heaved a sigh, and Angeal paused in the doorway.
"I can't for the life of me remember anything that happened," he muttered frustratedly, half to himself. "I couldn't have been in my right mind… and I hate not being in my right mind. But I'll tell you one thing," he added, more resolutely, and glanced up at Angeal with the hint of a smile. "I could have been named ruler of this planet, and it still wouldn't be worth what I'm feeling now."
"Ruler of the planet, huh," mused Angeal as he kept walking, smiling as he shut the door behind him. Sephiroth did love his power; how could he say that a simple hangover wasn't worth ruling the world?
Whatever. It was his loss.
It wasn't like he'd ever get the chance to rule the world anyway…
I can't explain where I got the idea for this disaster, so I'm not even gonna try. Again, sorry for the possible OOCness; I'm kind of a Final Fantasy rookie, myself, so I haven't really gotten into my stride yet…
Anyway, thanks for reading! :)