Cloud was holding a box. Zack didn't even ask. One of Cloud's hands holding the box was without his usual glove; soft, smooth, and cadet-like. He had just entered Zack's first-classy apartment, and was leaning down near the entrance to un-strap his boots.
All without letting go of that box, Zack noted. Zack was lying on the couch. Zack was hungry and tired, his eyelids drooping every few seconds, and his stomach rumbling awkwardly at times.
Zack didn't want to know what was in the box. Zack didn't care. And still, his eyes opened again when he heard Cloud swoosh his boots off to the side of the doorway, and amble on over towards him.
"Zack?"
That sweet, soft voice.
"Were you sleeping?"
"What?" Zack scoffed, grinning. "You know me better than that."
"I guess," Cloud mumbled, taking a seat next to Zack on the couch. Zack even moved his feet for the boy to sit down, unlike he would have done with…say, Kunsel. Let Kunsel smell his putrid training-worn feet, for all he cared; the thought actually kind of made him laugh. Zack let his left foot tumble to the floor, intentionally opening his legs to the younger boy. He wiggled his eyebrows at Cloud, and Cloud furrowed his brows; so oblivious, and yet not.
"So…"
"Zack."
"Hm?"
"Not yet."
"'Not yet' what…?" Zack drew out, his eyes thinning to a hard, sensual stare at the boy.
"This." And then the boy's lips are ghosting over his, such a light touch that he can't breathe for a moment or two or ten. Cloud's lips are chapped, and still always somehow fresh to Zack, and they're freaky-smooth against his, and it's more than nice. Zack ran his firm palms up the sides of Cloud's navy-blue uniform shirt, and it's soft like cotton. But Zack knew that Cloud was softer; Cloud was always softer, so he pressed his lips up, pressing ever closer to Cloud, his Cloud, but Cloud pulled back.
"I said 'not yet.'"
Zack grumbled.
And then Cloud's lips were upon his again, hips and soft lips moving, lips forming words against the nonchalant as he slurred his two words.
Not. Yet.
Zack couldn't remember if he was still holding that box, his knees twitching and fingers scratching at the fabric of Cloud's uniform.
And then Cloud's lean fingers are in his hair, rubbing all the right spots and twirling all the right curls and spikes, and he crushes their lips together bindingly in passion.
Cloud is soft.
And, to this day, Zack never did find out what was in that box.
Author's Note: Urgh, I dislike past-tense. Sometimes I start and can't stop, but then it turns into present-tense, and I have to change the whole thing. Why can't I just always write in present…? It's my favorite to write. I just started off odd for this ficlet, I suppose.
Short, sweet, and random is how I like it.
Inspired by 15_minute_fic on Livejournal.