Title: A Thousand Miles From Respite
Author: Harmony (Silver Harmony)
Characters/Pairing: Zack x Cloud
Rating: M
Word Count: Approximately 14,309.
Disclaimer: Not mine, otherwise this pairing would be canon.
Feedback: Very much appreciated, as I need it to improve. Thank you!
Notes: Please be warned that this fic is nowhere near as serious/deep or meaningful as the last two, lol. I've been wanting to explore a different tone with this pairing for quite a while! This is set during the Crisis Core era, but just a disclaimer that this fic is somewhat canon-divergent – mostly in the sense that I'd say our favorite guys are both already of age during that time, for obvious reasons; and also Lazard doesn't desert Shinra until much later (i.e. some time after the end of my fic) since I wanted him to appear in my story. There are a few other adjustments on top of these mostly because I just want our boys to be happy lol, but a lot of those changes are pretty minor, so yeah. Enjoy!
Summary: Free time and privacy are both pitifully rare when working for Shinra; Zack and Cloud can't get any proper time alone together, and it really is a whole new level of torture.
…
The thing is, privacy's never been an option to start with.
For one thing, they all live here – however many of them there may be altogether, numbering in the hundreds – with their lives signed away and duly sealed into the company's ownership. The price of existing so close to the corporation's secrets is that they all pretty much belong to Shinra for life: for most of them, it means shared meals, shared showers, shared barracks, shared missions. The SOLDIER organization's been running on this system within its own structure for as long as Zack's known it, and he's well aware that the standard Shinra army functions in much the same way within its own body, too.
Moreover, the privilege of being allotted his own room as a SOLDIER First Class officer doesn't amount to too much – not when members of the regular Shinra military units aren't actually permitted into the SOLDIERs' quarters at any point and his own boyfriend is one of the infantrymen.
The time he gets to spend together with Cloud is absurdly rare as it is, what with the distinct separation of their varying duties and assignments; having to committedly fight for even the smallest degree of intimacy is hardly anything strange, nowadays. There's a dismal shortage in both time and place for that kind of thing, resulting in periodic visits to a hole-and-corner love hotel discreetly tucked into the underbelly of downtown Midgar during the very rare days that they're fortunate enough to have off duty at the same time; or, when their work days restrict them to the Shinra grounds and leave them entirely desperate, it's any dark nook or cranny they can manage to uncover that they turn to.
Which isn't particularly the best idea by any means, and it takes being walked in on by his workmates for Zack to start to realize this.
When the door to the supply closet flies open, his brain's still considerably steeped in that perfect and indulgent blur of having Cloud pressed up so close against him, of relishing in Cloud's heated fingers working on him beneath his waistband, of savoring that secret and sensitive ecstasy of skin stroking skin. So the only thing that his mind's able to register at first is a familiar lifeless wash of pale light, the same kind lining most of the Shinra hallways, soaking the surface of his and Cloud's tangled bodies.
Straight after that is a wild, bowled-over yell of surprise that's loud enough to wake the dead.
'This – you – that's—!'
Luxiere is sputtering, and more or less close to frothing at the mouth.
Kunsel's there too, standing at Luxiere's side and struck into haunting silence with his jaw loosely hanging, and to be fair, Zack doesn't exactly blame either of them. Not with the undeniable fact that he's currently squeezed in here with Cloud's hand down his pants, having harbored basically no regrets whatsoever right up until this very moment.
Cloud's already groaning in evident disappointment.
'… Geez. Can't you guys—' Zack's breathless, the sensation of every miniscule shift of Cloud's hand on him still incredibly good, but far too sharply in focus for the tragic situation they're in. '—Hey, can you guys maybe not leave the door this wide open so we can fix ourselves up?'
He's too late, though. One blink of his eyes is all the time it takes for stampeding footfalls to hurriedly make their way over in an obvious trained trigger-response to Luxiere's outburst – and then a good chunk of Shinra's infantrymen and SOLDIERs are suddenly gathered at the closet's doorway, too, staring in at the two of them point-blank while Cloud's hand is still casually nestled down the front of Zack's pants.
When Zack sees his own fan club's email newsletter sitting in his inbox the next morning, flagged with importance and blaring the brazen-as-hell subject line of Caught red-handed and red-faced: Zack and his beau uncovered!, he can barely hold back his own whine of dismay.
Zack – I don't imagine I'll come by today. It's not particularly my scene. I appreciate the invitation though. Regards, Sephiroth
In all honesty, Zack doesn't find that message too surprising, but he knows that there's never any harm in having asked, anyway. After all, his sort-of friendship with Sephiroth's been blooming pretty well since they'd met at the start of the Genesis war; and when he has an evening off work, it's not unusual for him to find himself in the mood to take his friends out for a night on the town. Sephiroth's hesitation to dive into the deep end is completely understandable, however – the one particular downtown bar that most of the SOLDIERs enjoy frequenting tends to end up swarmed from wall to wall with a pretty raucous drinking crowd, and Zack can see how Sephiroth may consider it not his scene.
He shoots off a quick text reply that reads: Hey man, no problems at all. Sad I can't buy you a drink tonight, but I get it. See you 'round! and leaves it at that.
On the plus side, going out without the company of friends means that he's not tethered to the specific obligation of keeping his attention on them all night long, which in turn means that he can just cement himself to Cloud and spend the evening showing him every bit of appreciation he's been craving to express. A venture that, this time around, starts as chastely as a sweet graze and caress of their ankles together beneath the table as Zack's sipping his beer; and – inadvertently, although not too unexpectedly – leads to the two of them stumbling out the rear door of the bar into the dark back-alley outside, wet mouths slotting together with impatience the very moment they've stepped into the shadows, while keen fingers urgently make to grab and loosen each other's waywardly clinking belt buckles.
'I've really missed this. Missed you,' Cloud murmurs into the seam of Zack's lips, steady and sure; a stark reminder that anyone who may think that he's a poor fragile lamb solely based on his appearance or his quiet insecurities is sadly mistaken – because even despite those factors, Cloud's definitely still a warm-blooded young man who knows exactly what he wants, whether it be a place among the SOLDIERs or being the center point of Zack's gaze; and so far, nothing's held him back from trying to actively chase after everything that he's fixed his eye on.
He's really so charming and honest, and Zack can hardly help being so crazy into him.
'Me too. It sucks whenever I see you around the base and I can't even touch you,' Zack answers hoarsely between slick kisses, voice tight with an undercurrent of deep affection and outright wanting. He's drunk just about enough to get a minimal but delightful buzz without actually being tipsy at all, so his mind's sharp and clear when he takes firm hold of Cloud's upper arms and sweeps him toward the wall opposite the bar; a hiss of clear approval seeps out past Cloud's teeth when Zack eagerly presses him against the rows of dulled bricks. 'I always miss you. Like, twenty-four seven. If I had my way, I'd—'
—do this with you all the time, he almost says, but he clips it off and plunges down onto his knees instead. Cloud abruptly pulls in a thin, cutting breath, and Zack knows he's gotten the point across.
There's not really much more for them to say between the pleasant haze of that tiny bit of booze trickling through Zack's blood and the shameless heat of sex on the brain, so when Zack manages to work Cloud's pants and underwear partway down and take Cloud's dick into his mouth, the instantaneous relief that comes with it is unparalleled; a fervent euphoria that has them both groaning deep in their throats. Cloud's scent runs thick and heady between those wiry legs and the barest waft of it drives Zack into further thrill – he's so hard in his pants and his mind's probably short-circuited right now, because beyond focusing on the delivery of every deft flick of his tongue and slide of his lips, he can't think of much more than just wanting this to last forever.
It ends up lasting all of two seconds, because the loud creak of the bar's back door shrills out behind him, and a flood of light and noise suddenly fills the quiet dark of the alley.
Zack nearly has half a mind to ignore it at first, because any regular person would have an eyeful of what's going on and book it out of there straight away, back to the way they came from. But he realizes that's not happening when Cloud grates out a startled, strangled noise and nudges Zack backward so he can pull himself out of Zack's mouth – he's then quickly scrabbling to cover himself up to maintain some shred of decency, and Zack twists his body around unhappily at that, because he damn well intends to have a good look at who's cut their enjoyment so disappointingly short.
Turns out, it's Sephiroth. As in, the-friend-Zack-wholeheartedly-admires-and-Cloud's-goddamn-childhood-hero-Sephiroth.
Sephiroth in the flesh, wearing a wide but fog-eyed expression like he has a dumbapple lodged in his throat.
Any sliver of exasperation bubbling in the pit of Zack's stomach unexpectedly goes up and away in a puff of mist. Just like that.
'… I, um,' he starts somewhat idiotically, rather hesitant. 'I thought you weren't coming by.'
'I didn't think I was, either. But I changed my mind,' Sephiroth answers, his voice tight. He clears his throat; his face looks almost pinched at the corners. '… Well, then. I'll just … yes.'
With that, he turns on his heel and strides right back inside, stiff-shouldered and taut-fisted and his backbone ruler-straight, and in the yawning cleft that the door leaves, Zack manages to easily spot Kunsel tilting himself sideways to peer outside from where he's perched on his stool at the end of the bar. That's unexpected; Zack hadn't previously known that Kunsel would be here at all tonight.
'Hey. Sorry, Zack.' Kunsel's tone is maybe a little too bright for the situation – a midway point between good-natured and sympathetic. 'He was looking for you, so I told him he'd find you back there. I saw you guys walking out, and—'
But Sephiroth's closed the door before Zack can hear the rest of that sentence, and the wicked tongue of flame that's been smoldering between him and Cloud all night is similarly stamped out.
'I'm sure he doesn't hate you,' says Aerith kindly, carding gentle fingers through Zack's thicket of dark spikes.
Zack gives an answering groan at the memory of Sephiroth's floored look, rolling his head sideward in her lap. 'You didn't see his face,' he wails in unrepressed misery. 'I could practically see his soul leaving his body. He probably never wants to have anything to do with me again.'
Aerith lets out a tender crooning noise, grazing a delicate thumb over his ear.
'… We were getting along so well, too,' he continues on, half-despairingly. 'And also, man, Cloud admires him. I've probably ruined that for him now. So there's that as well.'
'So tell them both how bad you feel about it all,' Aerith replies, and somehow, it sounds strangely simple when it's coming from her. It makes sense, and doesn't give the impression of any difficult feat. 'It's not your fault, but it seems like you want to get it out of your system anyway, so talk to them. They'll certainly understand.'
Her eyes reveal nothing less than compassion and caring when he stares up at her, and Zack doesn't need much more than that measure of stable comfort for his restless fretting to gradually subside. Just those few quiet moments of consideration, and he feels infinitely better already. He huffs out a scrap of breathy laughter, sun-warm and merry, before hoisting himself up off her into a sitting position.
'You know, it might be a funny thing to say, but I'm glad you and I broke up,' he tells her pleasantly, turning back to offer her a heartfelt smile. 'We're so good like this. And hey, you give the best relationship advice.'
'Come on, you're being awfully ridiculous. That so-called advice wasn't anything special; it's just what it is.' Now she's softly laughing in amusement, too. 'Why don't you run along? I'm sure you're dying to sort things out with those two.'
He plants a grateful, messy kiss on her cheek and proceeds to leap to his feet.
There's no real point to delaying it all further, so with that, he sets out to send two messages right away. His PHS device is out of his pocket and resting in his palm by the time he starts moving to make his way out of the old church – and he takes small, slow steps as he types, pooling his focus into being as open and honest as he can possibly be.
To Cloud, he sends off: Hey, I'm sorry about last night. I know how much you look up to him.
His message to Sephiroth is equal in its simplicity: Hey, I wanted to apologize about last night. You shouldn't have had to see that. Sorry.
The PHS device begins pealing just as it's been slipped back into the folds of Zack's pocket; when Zack pulls it out and flips it open again, he finds that Cloud's already answered him in no time flat.
It's okay, the text reply reads. It's not your fault. With any luck, he won't remember me, but I'm worried about whether things will be alright between you two, since I know you guys are friends. I hope things haven't become too awkward. (Though I still wish we'd gotten further last night, and I've been thinking about you in general all morning, just so you know. See you again soon – hope you're having a good day so far).
An unfailingly thoughtful and temperate response, which really is very Cloud, through and through; Zack's chest feels fit to overflow and burst.
He's made his way right into the very heart of Midgar with the primary Shinra tower looming overhead by the time Sephiroth's answer finally comes, and it turns out far better and much less intimidating than he can possibly ask for:
It's alright – I realize I'm also at fault, for not messaging you in advance to let you know that I'd decided to come by after all. I'd figured that given our ongoing, endless duties to Shinra, it was as good an opportunity as any to better acquaint myself with Zack Fair as he truly is outside of work, so to speak. Though … if you ask me, I believe I've gotten more of a glimpse of that than I'd actually bargained for. Just saying, there may be better places for you to conduct such activities with your companion than where you were.
And Sephiroth's not wrong on that. A long sigh trickles out of Zack's lips; a roughened palm drags tightly over the outlines of his face.
I know, he writes back guiltily, and he can almost hear the notes of moaning despondency behind his own words, but there's not really any other way that he's able to express it. He's actually my boyfriend, and we hardly ever get time alone together so it reached the point where we got a bit desperate, I guess. I know it's kinda stupid. There's basically no such thing as privacy in Shinra for this kind of thing, so yeah.
To that, Sephiroth states somewhat coolly: I see. Must be difficult.
It's like a dam unexpectedly gives way at those words, splintering apart and breaking open. At least, that's precisely what it feels like, and Zack knows that there's no holding back the oncoming flood now.
His feet skid to a dead stop in the middle of the Shinra Tower hallway that he's slowly made his way into; before he even knows it, he's already typing on his PHS device at a breakneck rate.
It's a nightmare! You have no idea, he says in protest. I mean, Cloud's trying to get into SOLDIER, but until then, we're stuck like this, y'know? He sleeps in a room with five other guys in bunk beds, and even though I have my own room he doesn't have clearance to come into our quarters at any point in time. I get the reasons for all the rules, but it doesn't mean that it's not practically suffering. You get me, don't you?
Luxiere turns the corner into the corridor at that point, and upon catching sight of Zack there, fixes him with a strange, searching look; Zack absentmindedly lifts a hand in greeting, and Luxiere raises one in return as he passes by and walks on, seeming very much like he's overflowing with curiosity even though he doesn't say a word.
It's been a whole minute by then, and Sephiroth's yet to reply any further.
The momentary pause has Zack already straining, rupturing at the seams of his patience, and he decides not to wait.
… And I know it sounds cheesy and gross but we just really, really like each other and our relationship's going pretty great otherwise and we just wanna be together all the time, but it's already hard to spend time together as it is with all the separate missions and assignments we have, ugh.
Sorry for all the texts and the rambling but boy, I'm nearly at my limit, here.
We're honestly in that stage where we're always kinda dying to touch each other whenever we so much as pass each other in the hallways, and like, it's a lot more painful and intense than I make it sound, 'cause … man, I don't know. In the end, we're young and fit guys with completely healthy appetites, right? And none of this is making things easier—
He wonders if it's okay to start out being so open about this and venting so much in one fell swoop, but his trigger finger's considerably faster than his brain and he's sent off the message already; it's much too late, either way. Sephiroth's always quite nice about everything, at least.
Another minute ticks by with radio silence. Then another, and another.
Hey, buddy, you still there?
… Sephiroth?
A soft rap of knuckles at the entrance to the room has all of Zack's taut muscles promptly loosening in reaction; the sound's no less than music to his ears. He knows that particular knocking pattern as well as the back of his own hand.
'Come in,' he calls out with mounting anticipation.
The office door sweeps open to reveal Cloud's mild-mannered face, and it's like the sky rolling apart and the heavens gliding into view, in all honesty. Because the day's been awfully dull as it is, what with paperwork being Zack's least favorite SOLDIER First Class duty, on account of his general inability to sit still – active missions are more his style and color in every way, providing him with ample opportunity to stretch his legs and do as many squats as he wants to and throw himself into exhilarating action, into refreshing adventure. All of which are, no contest, far more thrilling than mind-numbing paperwork by miles.
Cloud's fingers are curled around the edges of a transparent lunchbox that seems to be encasing rows of simple sandwiches, and the heartwarming sight veers Zack straight into an itch to kiss him stupid, right here and now.
'Aww, Cloud. Is that for me?' he scrapes out instead, voice wavering with fond gratitude. 'You didn't have to.'
'I know. I wanted to.' The corners of Cloud's lips curve to hardly a half-smile, but there's enough gentle sun in it to light up the entire room, such that Zack can feel it reach into the dim nooks and crannies of his own chest cavity. 'I mean, it's not much – it's all I can really put together using what limited facilities we have in the barracks. But I wanted to do something for you, at least. You're always working so hard.'
'Man, it's not 'cause I like it, I can tell you that. I'd seriously give anything to just not look at any of these documents anymore,' says Zack in simultaneous complaint and relief, briefly arching his spine and stretching in his seat. His gaze doesn't drift aside for even a moment as Cloud trails a steady path around the office desk, modestly setting the lunchbox down along the way; Zack can't help reaching over to hook his fingers on Cloud's slender palm as soon as he's within reach, tugging him closer. 'Well, I'm officially putting myself on lunch break now. I don't want to waste a single second of having you here.'
Cloud lets out a little noise that rings like agreeable satisfaction, a healthy inner glow of approval staining his cheekbones as he allows himself to be reeled in.
It starts off leisurely and innocent, really, the simple naked affection that comes with getting to savor the happy luxury of a reunion; Cloud takes a fleeting moment to peer at Zack thoughtfully through pale lashes, before seeming to throw caution to the wind and very, very slowly climbing onto the chair Zack's in, easing himself into Zack's welcoming lap. There's a honey-sweet languor to the way Cloud goes on to nuzzle the dip beneath Zack's ear, a snug warmth to the way he brackets Zack's thighs with his own. In answer, Zack pulls his fingertips over the sturdy lines of Cloud's ribs while spilling out quiet laughter, soft and glad.
Then Cloud shifts oddly beneath Zack's hands and hums, restless, like it's his first touch in far too long – and the dawning realization that it brings collides into Zack in a crystal-clear moment of awakening: he's conscious, all too suddenly, of the fact that both of them have been starved for this contact, starved for each other, for weeks.
Cloud's face as he draws back is a portrait of stunned surprise, at first. At himself, maybe; at the untamed impulse in his own reactions. But something in Zack's expression must be mirroring Cloud's, because the wind somehow changes direction between one instant and the next.
There's no hint of chaste composure when Cloud decisively makes his way in for the second time.
The lips and tongue tracing damp heat into the valley of Zack's neck is exactly how he likes it, curbed just enough to be teasing, and damn if the sensitivity washing over each and every nerve ending isn't kindling the coiling tension between his thighs. He slides a keen hand down the back of Cloud's pants and gives a mild squeeze, fingertips digging into supple skin; Cloud exhales sharply, rolling his hips in unconstrained reflex, which drags the firm outline of his cock right over Zack's in an exquisite stroke, the angle perfect, the pressure tight. A tattered moan quivers in the space between them, and Zack doesn't know whose throat it's bubbled up from. He thinks it doesn't really matter, either way.
The metal and plastic joints of the chair beneath him creak as he seeks out more friction, as he slowly moves to rock up against Cloud, as Cloud grinds down against him in response, and he's very nearly losing his mind at how sultry his own name sounds when Cloud's the one rasping it out – at which point two brisk knocks are distantly heard, followed directly by the office door swinging open and Tseng taking a heedless step in.
'Zack,' Tseng starts curtly. 'I have an assignment—'
He stops in his tracks.
Cloud, naturally, freezes absolutely still. And so does Zack.
The only proof that Tseng's face isn't carved from stone – it doesn't seem to have budged even a single inch, which is entirely impressive, all things considered – is the initial flicker of surprise that Zack may or may not have unexpectedly caught a glimpse of in those dark eyes; it's maybe the most outwardly apparent expression of emotion he's read from Tseng since they'd first met. Cloud burrows his face into the slab of Zack's shoulder, his exhales shuddering and unsteady. Zack can only heave in a deep lungful of air and count to ten.
'… Hey, Tseng,' he tries to say casually, and it ends up sounding a little too casual, more so than what's probably appropriate. 'Uh, sure, I'm all ears. What's up?'
Tseng patiently clears his throat. Hardens his chin. Tugs once on the hem of his suit jacket to straighten it even more than it already is.
'Possible Genesis Copy, last sighted in Sector Seven. If the reports are legitimate, then it must've slipped in without us noticing,' he answers smoothly. No trace of even the smallest crack or tremor marring his voice. 'Best to have this verified quickly. And to have the problem taken care of as necessary.'
Easier said than done, when Zack has a problem of his own pleading to be addressed at this very moment. It's called even more to attention when Cloud squirms once in his arms, seemingly uneasy; the movement grazes their aching groins together, and Zack thinks that this is as close to death as he's ever been.
'—Um … any witnesses?'
'A mother with her young boy, and a man who works as a vendor in the area,' Tseng replies outright, all sensible business and no nonsense. 'They're downstairs waiting to be questioned.'
By that, Tseng can only mean that they're waiting to be questioned by Zack, since he's the one who's been allotted this assignment.
One breath in, one breath out. In, out, until the stormy heat starts to wane and cool down. In. Out.
Zack clamps his teeth down on the disappointed groan that he can feel simmering in his throat; what eventually leaves his lips instead is an acquiescent sigh.
'… Okay. I'll be right on it.'
Tseng dips his head in a single, disciplined nod, before turning on his heel and departing the room without a word. Zack thinks he can see a faint smudge of red clambering up the back of Tseng's neck, though he can't be sure.
The one thing he is sure of is that he's not so worked up anymore now, so at least he'll be able to get straight onto his duties with his head fully screwed on right, though he doesn't know if he can say whether everything's worked out in his favor or not.
'… By the time I got to eat the sandwiches he'd brought me, it was midnight,' Zack bursts out with tense vigor, his face crumpling at the edges; long fingers coil over the rim of the desk in front of him, gripping bone-tight. 'I would've seriously been so happy to just have twenty minutes to eat lunch with him and spend time with him if I wasn't gonna get laid anyway, but it seems like even that's too much to ask for.'
Though Zack knows it can't be helped; that much goes unsaid. Genesis had stolen away a significant portion of the Second and Third Classes when he'd deserted – a critical, pivotal move that's left the SOLDIER division tremendously understaffed. It's a given that every remaining individual is expected to dedicate twice the amount of their initial share of labor now, and he's come to accept the reality of that fact. It doesn't mean that the situation with Cloud doesn't totally suck in general, however.
Sephiroth tips back in his seat, the pale green of his low-lidded eyes unusually dull; dry lips press together in silence, impassive and unreadable.
'I haven't been able to just be with him, uninterrupted, for the last four days. Even then, it was only to eat breakfast together, so we had to go our separate ways for work straight after that,' Zack presses on, and he thinks he may possibly sound like a petulant child at this point, but he's beyond caring. 'And we haven't done it for like, three straight weeks.'
'Zack,' Sephiroth says immediately, his tone stretched oddly taut. 'I appreciate that you've somehow come to think of me as the first source of emotional comfort for your problems, for whatever reason. But this kind of matter isn't particularly my—'
Zack brightens at him in anticipation, his own rant temporarily forgotten; after all, Sephiroth's input on any subject is always worthwhile.
'… You know what, never mind.' It takes only one look at Zack's face before Sephiroth gives a heavy sigh. For barely a single passing moment, he'd seemed unusually out of his depth, but that air's quickly smoothed over by a somewhat deadpan sort of expression. 'I just have to wonder if there's anyone more – qualified, so to speak, to talk about such things with you.'
'I'd probably vent to Angeal, or Sebastian and Essai, if they were still around. But they're not.' A momentary, solemn pause of quiet respect; Zack purses his lips in fleeting thought. 'I suppose I could go to Aerith again, or Kunsel, or Cissnei … but I don't think I need to. You're such a good listener, y'know?'
Sephiroth's eyelids briefly fall to a close. A full, gradual, calming breath – patient and slow. Then another one.
When his eyes come open again, they're a blank slate; inscrutable as before.
'… Well. This has been a fine chat, but I have to—' his gaze flits quickly back and forth over the expanse of his office desk, before visibly landing on the bowl containing his unfinished lunch. He takes hold of it at once, sweeping it up and into the bends of his fingers. '—Go … with my salad. I have to take it to – the labs. To get it checked.'
'What's wrong with it?' asks Zack, mouth circling out in surprise.
'It seems to – hmm.' The heavyweight leather of Sephiroth's coat creaks loudly as he unfolds himself from his seat and pushes himself to his feet; an obvious, jarring noise. '… It emits its own sounds, rather strange ones, when I eat it.'
That's a rather curious thing to say, and Zack can't help laughing good-naturedly. 'Come on, man, everything makes some sort of sound when you eat it. That's just your teeth making contact with the food.'
The expression that crosses Sephiroth's face in response is an illustration of something close to physical pain, and Zack instantly feels bad for teasing him, then, because he must've really liked that salad.
When Sephiroth wordlessly treads out of his office, salad bowl in hand and a rigid strain to his limbs, Zack doesn't move to stop him.
To be fair, he and Cloud really had been using the training room for legitimate training.
Anything goes when it comes to the training rooms, however; he'd stumbled into a select throng of Third Classes having a picnic in one of them one time, and a sizeable gaggle of Second Classes holding an impromptu card game tournament in there another time. What takes place in the training rooms isn't ever questioned, really, not unless someone's camped in there past their booking slot time and someone else requires the room for actual training.
So it isn't too much of a surprise, and yet still a miserable disappointment, when the afternoon ends up such that Cloud's languidly draped out beneath Zack on the training room floor, lean legs splayed up and around Zack's hips with both their pants halfway undone – and Kunsel just comes sauntering in on them all devil-may-care.
In all honesty, they hadn't particularly expected things to swerve anywhere near this direction when they'd first walked in. Not when Cloud's blossomed a genuine interest in wielding a larger broadsword as Zack has been; not when Zack possesses a real plethora of techniques to teach him in that regard, and had booked out an hour's worth of training for that very purpose.
And they had wrapped up said training for the day, having covered everything that they'd intended to. Zack must've simply misjudged the leftover time they'd had for their booking slot, from the look of things. At that point, he and Cloud were also still riding the residual thrill from their finishing spar, and were more than inclined to burn that stirring energy in other ways.
Which is how they've all ended up in this sorry situation: with Kunsel standing fixed and stock-still in the training room doorway, studying Zack and Cloud in silence – and his expression isn't too easy to read beneath the bulk of his Second Class helmet, so Zack can't really determine what he's thinking. Not that there's much variety in what anyone can think about this, anyway. Zack has firm fingers eagerly splayed over the side of Cloud's thigh while Cloud's blunt nails are digging uninhibitedly into the meat of his back; they'd gotten caught up in rolling their hips playfully, sensuously, deliciously together without having intentionally planned to, right up until the moment Kunsel had skimmed the door open. And it's all exactly what it looks like.
'We're wrestling,' Zack supplies moronically anyway, and he immediately regrets saying it the moment it flies from his mouth, on account of how absolutely stupid it sounds. He has to forcefully press down on the rising urge to slap his hand to his own forehead for that genius remark.
'… I see.' Kunsel's tone is matter-of-fact, but also simultaneously filled with thought. 'Sorry to do this, Zack, but would you happen to be almost done with your wrestling at all? You're nearly ten minutes over your booking and I've got the next slot. I do need to get some training in, and none of the other rooms are free.'
Beyond his direct frame of vision, Zack can see the unspoken tension, desire and frustration sketching out pronounced lines on Cloud's face – and boy, does he feel every bit of that exact mood cutting across his own brow.
But he mumbles: 'Yeah, of course,' with some degree of guilt regardless. He nudges at Cloud's hip faintly with his knuckles, a wordless request for him to peel his legs away; Cloud complies willingly, a blend of reluctance and understanding furrowed into the contours of his mouth. Zack goes on to hoist himself into a sitting position, then, and Cloud follows him up in turn.
A ghostly quiet settles over the room the moment Kunsel generously steps outside to give the two of them a little space. Cloud takes advantage of that lull without hesitation, reaching over and zipping and buttoning Zack's pants back up for him before tending to his own; a warm, sweet gesture. Zack lays a single soft kiss on Cloud's lips in answer, heartfelt gratitude flickering in his chest.
And he lets his face sink into the crook of Cloud's neck after that. A heavy surrender drips from his body, its onset nearly out of the blue – but also not really. He can hardly bring himself to move, either way.
'… There, there,' Cloud murmurs into his hair, fingers gently patting the curve of his back. 'I know.'
Once he's taken a step into the familiar hallway and the sight of a certain door begins to loom closer with his approach, he casually calls out: 'Hey, Sephiroth! You got time to chat?'
It's hard to miss the harsh scuff and scrape of swift, scurrying footfalls against rough carpet, like someone's hurriedly scrambling to get someplace – but when Zack opens the door to Sephiroth's office, he's met with only a deadly quiet. A thoroughly empty room; not a soul in sight.
'Huh,' Zack murmurs to himself, perplexed. 'I could've sworn—'
Peering eyes wander from corner to corner, and is unexpectedly caught by the freestanding wardrobe looming a small distance behind the desk; the wooden door's a touch ajar, the interior beyond it midnight-dark. Sephiroth had told him once that he stores a spare uniform or two in there, just in case. And he's tidy and orderly by nature, Zack knows – to have the wardrobe door idly lolling open like this would count as disarray for him. It's one thing he'd certainly never intentionally do, or stand for.
Zack strides over, pushes said door firmly shut with a gratifying click. One good deed for the day.
He doesn't linger after that, making his way out of the office with prompt efficiency. Being unable to confide his troubles in Sephiroth again today is a real shame, but he thinks he can rein the urgency in, for now. At least he'd been able to help maintain some neatness in his friend's office; that's good enough for him.
The SOLDIER dining hall is unpredictably rumbling with heated gossip during that night's mealtime, about how General Sephiroth himself had to be rescued from his office wardrobe by a flustered and gushingly proud Luxiere – and Zack can only gape with awe when he hears the story from Kunsel, because it sure as hell is a funny place for Sephiroth to have mysteriously ended up in.
In hindsight, following Tseng's advice may not have been the most ideal course of action.
Because it likely would've been effective in a less extreme instance; but the thing is, Zack's more or less caged in a unique position of endless, continuous frustration at this point – and instead of abating the electricity in his veins as Tseng had suggested it might, the optional mission he'd agreed to embark on had only served to wind him up even more.
He's been away for two straight days, tracking and hunting down an out-of-control Tonberry, and the thought of returning home to see Cloud again had been firmly mounted to the forefront of his mind all the way throughout.
His priorities are altogether set in stone by the time his helicopter touches down back at the main base: not a single second is wasted – he sends off a succinct text message to Cloud without delay, designating a nearby hallway in which to meet. He doesn't even expect Cloud to be readily available right at this moment, really, but there's never any cost in hoping.
So when he glimpses Cloud rounding the corner of that particular hallway in a whirlwind of urgency, clearly in a hurry to see him, every cell in his body immediately jolts awake, practically singing through his blood and bones with wild relief.
The corridor's silent and deserted, a private and narrowed world of no one else but the two of them, and Zack can't be more profoundly grateful about that. There's no hesitancy when they both draw forward to close their remaining distance; nor when Cloud seizes Zack by the ribbed knit of his uniform and pulls him down into a near-bruising kiss; nor when Zack fervently kisses back with all the torturous weeks' worth of helpless constraint and desperate yearning behind it.
Wayward fingers fumble with rawhide fastenings and two sets of clunky pauldrons tumble to the floor together with Cloud's infantry scarf, all indifferently forgotten. Good, Zack thinks with suitable satisfaction – being such impressively bulky shoulder pieces, the armor had really been getting in the way. Both their upper body straps and belts are easier to shed after that, and Zack can already start to taste the fringes of beautiful freedom burning on his tongue when the confining bands of leather finally peel away, leaving only the sensitive touch of Cloud's roving hands to replace them.
And then Cloud suddenly murmurs, 'Wait,' between one kiss and the next, and Zack's impressed at himself for not outright howling in distress at that, because putting this on hold is the very, very last thing in the world that he wants to do.
But he does pause and pull back with devotion and respect, even despite the absolute need tangibly gathering itself into stiff creases between his brows. One look at Zack's expression, though, and Cloud's gaze falls unexpectedly tender. Unwaveringly warm. Unspeakably grateful.
'… Sorry. I wasn't meaning to—' Cloud's voice comes a little breathy from out of his reddened lips; he swivels his head sideways, and pointedly eyeballs the nearest door to them, some small distance away. 'I was just going to suggest we find ourselves a room. At the rate we're going, we can't exactly stay out here.'
Zack instantly perks up in reflex – 'Okay! Yeah!' he agrees, all gusto and no indecision – and his face must be brightening visibly, judging by the upward twitch of subdued amusement at the corners of Cloud's mouth. It kindles a soothing heat at Zack's breastbone, one that's quickly unfurling, spreading all over.
He spares a hasty look at the base of the door in question; from what he can see, there's no sign of the customary cool-toned light scattered across every room in the Shinra headquarters trickling through the gap. A doubtlessly unoccupied room. They're good to go – Zack can't be more excited at that thought.
So he descends on Cloud at once, swooping him up into a smoldering kiss all over again, and Cloud more than welcomes him with zeal in equal measure.
By the time they've maneuvered themselves to the door, they've worked their respective standard-issue uniform tops halfway off their shoulders, and Zack thinks he may possibly burst at the seams from the overflow of sensations in all his nerve endings. He's generally gone without for so long that every fiber and molecule of his body is registering double, triple the voltage in every point of contact: the lush, wet heat of Cloud's tongue and lips moving with his own; the work-roughened pads of Cloud's fingertips trailing with unrestrained longing over Zack's bare waistline; the urgent, reciprocated press and slide of their thighs up along each other's, rapidly coaxing the flame below their bellies awake. Each bit of it is adding up with alarming speed, engulfing his senses, and it feels nothing short of damn good.
They emit a soft laugh into each other's mouths, and somewhere amid the messy scrabble to get their uniform tops all the way off and the rather lazy endeavor to toss them aside in whatever far-flung direction, Zack manages to grope the door handle open and push them both through into the readily waiting room.
Only to be met with a clear, unholy shriek like someone's been startled out of their skin.
'That – they're – it's—!'
The two of them spring apart in due shock – and beyond the high-adrenaline, stunned daze of having his heart racing a million miles a minute, Zack's suddenly, dreadfully aware that the room's most certainly not empty.
It's actually packed full from wall to wall.
A large auditorium that's rarely in use as far as Zack remembers, but just about every Second and Third Class SOLDIER is here, with a dumbfounded Lazard frozen stationary at the front where he's standing; he's clearly in the middle of a kind of educational presentation, if the active slide on the projector screen is anything to go by. Luxiere's situated toward the back of the theater and quite obviously the one who'd shouted, because he's currently pointing a trembling finger while continuing to belt out an unbroken string of random nonsense that's fervid enough to have him nearly foaming at the mouth yet again. Kunsel's positioned close by in the very first row of seats, openly staring but in some way unnaturally calm and composed and unshaken, seeming for all the world like his spirit's just gone and astral-projected itself to another dimension.
And Zack and Cloud are on full display not too far off from where Lazard is. Basically front and center.
Delicate sunrays pour into the room a muted gold; colossal windows in full height and length stretch impressively across the auditorium's outer wall. The natural light doesn't quite reach the one and only door, but it illuminates the entire space brightly enough that of course the artificial ceiling lights wouldn't have been turned on, especially not with an onscreen visual presentation currently taking place.
It's probably a testament to what Zack's been through in the last few weeks that all the fight leaves his veins just as swiftly as any trace of arousal does, and he's not even surprised about being in this situation anymore.
'Hey,' says Kunsel coolly. Too unperturbed and collected; almost like he's reluctantly, solemnly given up and come to accept his less-than-favorable cosmic fate of always being around when this sort of thing happens. 'You're back.'
'Hi. Yeah.' The answer sounds brainless even to Zack's own ears, but there's not much else he can say to that.
A quaver runs through the line of Cloud's shoulders; Zack bites down on his cheek at the sight of him folding his arms around himself, tense palms obscuring uncovered nipples as though it'll make even a shred of difference to the stark-nakedness of his torso. It doesn't really.
At least both their pants are still on and fully done up, which is more than can be said for a pretty noteworthy fraction of the incidents that'd come before.
Lazard bends himself in half at the waist, then, and warily picks up the two discarded garments that'd landed right on his shoes, crumpled like a pair of useless rags. When he gradually straightens up again, he extends the clothing pieces to Zack in offering, cautiously held between a thumb and forefinger.
'… Your shirts,' he states simply, his air of bafflement unchanged.
Only autopilot sets Zack into motion, a systematic preset to give a straightforward nod, to lifelessly drag his feet over, to accept and retrieve the uniform tops. He suspects he's probably dead inside.
His fan club's email newsletter boasts the overly grand, spectacular headline of The naked truth: Zack and his beau exposed yet again! that same evening, containing an anonymous first-hand witness report that's uncannily written in the manner of Luxiere's usual speech, and Zack has to distantly wonder whether Luxiere's likely the type to sell him out for a corn chip or not.
'Have you ever played around with a tired dog that still really wants to play anyway? And you can see that it's, like … in this funny halfway point between having all the brimming energy and enthusiasm in the world, and being limp and droopy enough to give up and just roll over and sleep?' says Cissnei with purpose, staring meaningfully as she takes a graceful slurp of her canned iced coffee. 'Well, you know, you're that dog.'
'More puppy jokes, huh. Everyone sure likes calling me one,' Zack murmurs under his breath, slumping back into the wall he's sitting against while letting a worn-out sigh heave his chest. His leg restlessly shakes itself awake in front of him; he finds he doesn't really care enough to still its movement. 'Not like I can deny it, I guess. Being crazy high-strung after literal weeks of barely being able to touch the guy I'm dating, and feeling super-tired of somehow managing to put on a show for the whole Shinra corporation every single time I try to, isn't really a walk in the park.'
'Does it help at all if you, you know.' A secret, scandalous eyebrow-waggle beneath a curtain of copper bangs. 'Handle the problem yourself, once in a while? To take the edge off, or something.'
'It does a little, I guess. But at the same time, nah. Not particularly.' The answer's instantaneous, one that Zack's had ample time to mull over and discover for himself, even though he's truthfully always known in his gut. 'I like him. Like … I really like him a lot, so I also just really like being with him in whatever way, y'know? Just – there isn't exactly any kind of substitute for that feeling for me, if you get what I mean. Nothing can compare to that.'
Cissnei pauses and peers at him for a moment, an admiring softness written into the corners of her eyes.
'… You sure are a good guy, Zack Fair. Guess I'm not surprised that you're this much of a romantic, too,' she says in appreciation, before carefully tipping back her can and finishing off the last of her drink. She then hoists herself up to her feet, stretching out a pair of slim legs and smoothing over the crisp suiting fabric of her trousers. 'Blondie's real lucky to have you.'
'You're going already?' Zack unwittingly molds his lips into a pout; their talk's been nice, however briefly it may have lasted.
'Yeah, my break's over. Duty calls, and there's never any shortage of work around here, as I'm sure you know.' She throws him a sympathetic wink, and disposes of her empty beverage can in a refuse basket nearby. 'Sorry to have to leave you like this. Is there anyone else you can vent to?'
Zack's mouth slowly unrolls into a toothy grin at that, and he pushes himself up until he's standing, too, hands settling on solid hips in certainty and conviction. 'Sure do. Go show all that work who's boss and don't you worry about me, yeah? I'll be right as rain, I promise.'
Cissnei smiles back, radiant and encouraging, and offers a modest parting wave before taking her leave without saying anything more.
True to his word, Zack finds himself in Sephiroth's office not ten minutes later; Sephiroth's tucked quietly behind his desk with a neutral, unenthusiastic expression dressed on his features as though he's not entirely in the mood for anything in particular. But his whole bearing shifts a bit startlingly the moment Zack crosses the threshold and enters the room – within the blink of an eye, he seems suddenly off-kilter to a degree: in the somehow precarious way he's holding himself together, maybe, or in the restless droop of his eyes, or in the dimmer-looking quality of his skin. Zack can't help gaping shamelessly at the sight, jaw dangling ajar.
'Hey man, you okay?' he asks outright. Straight to the point.
Sephiroth gives no answer, face stretching strangely taut in some places, gathering heavy furrows in others.
Green eyes flicker in a nature that Zack's never witnessed before now, given all his friendly encounters with Sephiroth in the past – a barely-there hint of something that may or may not be close to danger. A leftover shadow, perhaps, of the infamous Demon of Wutai.
Zack stays rooted to his spot, unmoving.
'… Do you wanna talk about it?' he offers with some hesitance, chewing on his bottom lip.
Sephiroth's hair hangs limp, spraying ghostly shadows over his creasing brow, his clenching jawline, his tensing throat. Still no reply.
That means a no, Zack supposes.
'… Well, okay. Will a fun story help your mood at all? I've been up to a lot lately. I'm sure I can think of something to tell you that'll entertain you.' And as soon as the words have tumbled out of him, a vivid flashback to a few days prior happens to cross his mind; he outwardly moans in misery at the memory. 'I have the perfect story, actually. A hell of a disaster for me, but a few people seem to have found a bit of humor in it totally at my expense, so hey – you might too. Did you hear about what happened in the upper north-west auditorium the other day?'
If anything, Sephiroth's face appears to tighten even more severely when he hears that, but before Zack can manage to puzzle out any possible reason why, a moderate and levelheaded voice at his back cuts through the air.
'Zack, Director Lazard asked me to pass on a couple of things that he wants you to do.' Kunsel's tone is gentle but frank, leaving no space for argument. 'There's some work that needs to be done ASAP.'
'On it,' Zack responds with automatic vigor, and then lets out a yielding sigh – it'd been the well-trained workhorse in him reacting. In all honesty, he's reluctant to leave Sephiroth stewing alone in that bizarre mood he's in, but there's never any choice when Shinra duties are involved. 'Hey, Sephiroth, I've gotta go. Hope you'll be okay by yourself. Call me if you need anything, alright?'
No additional time is spared to wrap up the conversation any better than that; Kunsel's already curled firm fingers around his elbow and tugging him insistently out the door.
Once they've progressed a good way down the corridor and rounded the corner into the adjoining hallway, Zack casts Kunsel a sidelong glance, pleasantly curious. 'So what jobs am I doing?'
'… Nothing. I was passing by and I just made it up as an excuse to get you out of there,' Kunsel answers sensibly, his voice steady with logic and reason. 'I know you don't mean any harm, Zack, but I hope you won't mind if I tell you that I think you might be misreading the situation? Not sure if you've picked up on this, but General Sephiroth doesn't particularly appear to be the gossipy type and I reckon his personal sense of humor doesn't tend to align with some of the other staff we know … he's probably not going to find your hanky-panky incident as entertaining to hear about or talk about as they do. Some people just prefer not to have conversations about that kind of thing. Plus, it looked to me like he has already heard about it from the grapevine, anyway.'
'Oh,' says Zack, guilty and crestfallen. Troubling anyone, or making anyone feel ill at ease, isn't something he ever wants to even dream of doing; he scrawls down a mental note to go apologize to Sephiroth later. 'Guess I've been oversharing, huh?'
'I don't know what talks you've had with the General, but if all your recent – as you say, wrestling –misadventures are anything to go by …' Kunsel curls the edge of his mouth, measured and deliberate. 'Seriously, when I came in, he looked like he was ready to burn down a town.'
Zack puffs out a single incredulous laugh at that. 'Dude, he's not going to burn down a town.'
A friendly, good-natured hum comes in reply; and then Kunsel squares his shoulders in evident resolve, clapping a reassuring hand on the sturdy bulk of Zack's arm. 'Hey, you know what. Just because he doesn't have an easy time hearing about that sort of stuff that you get up to, doesn't mean that nobody else is willing to listen. How about we go downtown tonight and I buy you a drink? You're welcome to talk my ear off about how you haven't been getting any, and we can both ignore that the rear door's there so we don't wind up thinking about what happened in the back alley with you and Cloud and General Sephiroth, last time.'
Zack's throat ripples out a moan of dismay all over again; but Kunsel's lips quirk upward in an almost-smile, amused and kind – and seeing it, nothing less than warmth and gratitude ends up seeping into Zack's chest.
He's got good people around him, and he feels like he may just be able to power through anything. Ridiculous forced abstinence and all.
Although, as fortune has it, persistence pays off and his dry period is always meant to break; it's not long before he doesn't have to weather it anymore.
Going all out and fighting damn hard is a necessary requirement in standard SOLDIER group training – an ongoing bid to push past the limits of even the most superhuman endurance – and the closure of a full day's session is typically met with a hazy post-workout sluggishness that twines around all of Zack's bones and leaves him craving for a soothing warm shower and well-deserved relaxation in general.
He likes everyone, really. There's never a time that he ever feels resentment over someone's company or presence, and that's not about to change in any measure, even after everything that's happened up to this point. But there are days when he's drained enough of his own energy to seriously appreciate some quiet solitude in the aftermath, just as any normal human being would. So when he follows up the day's group training session with some more training on his own – an additional two hours of squats and swordwork all by himself – in order to guarantee some private seclusion in the Shinra-wide communal bathrooms just one level up, he doesn't expect to step in only to be met with an equally worn-out Cloud already there, idly stripping down to prepare for a shower himself, too.
'Oh, hey,' Zack blurts out, blinking in genuine surprise. 'I didn't think I'd see you tonight. Did you just finish drills?'
'An hour ago, more or less. Figured I'd stay back a little and wait for the crowd to thin out just about as much as it possibly could. Boy … I'm honestly straight up tired, you know? Wasn't up to standing around in a queue just to clean myself up today.' There's a homely, careful neatness to the way Cloud folds up his uniform and sets it aside; Zack marvels in seeing it even though he's borne witness to it quite a few times before, and even as he's unceremoniously pulling off his own uniform with nowhere near the same quality of attentive thought. Cloud makes fairly quick work of shimmying out of his underwear, continuing on: 'I mean, everyone should be at dinner by now. Seeing as you're here so late, I'm assuming you had the same idea?'
'Yeah. I know I could've always just gone back to my room, but I'd already lugged my clean uniform and other gear all the way to training, so I thought I may as well get some squats and stuff in,' Zack answers in a sigh, shedding the last of everything he's wearing until there's not a stitch left on his skin. 'I could really use some quiet after a super-long day like that. A lot less people come up here to use the showers than they do downstairs, from what I've seen? Most of them tend to just stay down there 'cause it's closer to the training areas, I think.'
'I know. You were the one who told me that before, a long while back,' Cloud murmurs, the barest hint of a purposeful smile tugging at his lips. He presents his hands with palms upturned, then, a gesture that seems to say: that's why I'm here.
The small grin that slowly steals its way into Zack's face doesn't hide how much his heartbeat's skipping.
They're lucky enough to have the open showers to themselves today, the far-reaching silence of their surroundings devouring the empty space such that even their tiniest movements echo off the polished tiles, and Cloud takes two steps over to the showerhead that's closest to him, right beside the room's entrance. By the time Zack's made his way across to the neighboring showerhead, Cloud's already nestled comfortably beneath a placid cascade of water, looking for all the world like he's not about to find a better paradise.
'This is so good,' he murmurs, pleasure coloring his voice.
When Zack turns on his own spray, he's graced with a soothing taste of tepid water caressing his skin like summer rain, and can only heartily agree in consequence. 'Bath-time's probably the only time of day I even have free anymore.'
'Yeah, same,' Cloud spills out a sigh, laying his bar of soap down and slowly lathering its residual frothy suds over one shoulder. 'It's even rarer that we both ever get that at the same time, huh? Maybe we should make it a point to start scheduling our showers for the same time every day so we actually get to see each other, even if it's only for a few minutes.'
Zack issues a half-snuffle, half-laugh of amusement at that, giving Cloud a fond and easy sideward glance. 'If we'd thought of that ages ago, we probably could've avoided all this torture.'
His intended meaning had been their infrequent meetings in general – but Cloud swivels his head with such dizzying breakneck speed, staring lightning-struck and huge-eyed, that it takes Zack an instant to get it.
Their schedules are free of anything, right now.
They're alone together, right here.
Everyone's away at dinner, and no one will be coming by.
This is it. The passing seconds tick loudly off the walls. Blood-pulses start thundering in Zack's ears, the quickened beat of a drum.
He's scarcely opened his mouth to express whatever he may think of this when Cloud suddenly reaches out to snatch his wrist, and blatantly yanks him over; Zack's very much on the same wavelength, reflexes kicking in without a single moment's delay as he dives headlong to meet Cloud in the middle with a searing kiss.
Every trace of tiredness drains right out of his muscles, and he's struck with electricity and jolted into life in no time flat, just from the fit of that perfect mouth against his own; and from Cloud's earthy scent, sprinkled with a touch of rigorous work and post-training sweat; and from the fracturing pieces of continuous days of painful wanting. Desperation bubbles in the space between them like a hot spring, and the marvelously firm pressure of the warm hands that they slide down between each other's legs only skyrockets that urgency, the undulating movement swaying their balance such that their kisses turn into a clumsy but insistent glide of wide-opened lips and tongue and teeth – jaws hanging loose and breathy pants coming ragged from their chests while they're barely even able to kiss anymore.
The hypersensitive, fully naked stroke of palm against cock has Zack so keyed up that he can tangibly feel the raw inferno surging through all his veins, stemming from the slightly water-dampened but still exhilarating friction, and it doesn't take much of that until they're both steel-hard.
'Hang on, I'll just—' Cloud pulls back, and whirls around, making to turn the shower lever off; the clean break in their contact immediately feels empty and hollow, the swirls of vacant air running cold against Zack's skin, and he takes a resolute step in to re-eliminate their distance.
'Leave it. I know it's slippery, but we'll manage,' he murmurs into the nape of Cloud's neck, curling a well-callused grip securely over the shallow bend of Cloud's waist. His other hand reaches around Cloud's hip, skimming a weightless, fluttering line diagonally down the solid plane of the adjoining stomach with his knuckles, and then trailing lightly up the underside of Cloud's shaft with suggestive fingertips – a thrilling promise.
Cloud opens up like a flower-bloom beneath that touch and his hold on the lever slackens, the unsteady hand falling away to brace flat against the tiles instead; his throat scratches out a noise that's somewhere close to a whine, and the eagerness in the sound ignites the nerves of Zack's spine, makes the throb right up between his thighs ache even more. He presses forward and rubs his cock into the soft valley between Cloud's cheeks, a luxuriously filthy grind that's answered at once with Cloud pushing back into him, hitting the mark where they're both clearly craving it. A groan rattles out of both their mouths.
'Don't know how much more of this I can take,' Cloud manages to rasp out, his voice toppling over unevenly the way it's only ever done when they're both quite far gone. 'I needyou.'
The line they're toeing is so dangerous, Zack knows, because he can seriously come just from this. At least Cloud's given him an excuse to try to calm down for a moment; he gathers himself together, lets go with all the willpower he can manage to muster, takes a reluctant step away.
'I need you, too.' He moves across without delay to the freestanding bench in the center of the shower block where his clothing's been previously discarded, then messily crams a hand into the yawning deep of his uniform pocket. 'Let me just get—'
Cloud sucks in a deep, long breath, and spins his head around, tossing a backward glance at Zack with a floored element to his expression like he can't believe what he's seeing.
'Did you literally … bring condoms and lube in your pocket to SOLDIER training?' he throws out point-blank, his voice nursing a tone that sounds almost like incredulity and scandal.
'I – hey, don't judge me!' Zack protests without any actual bite, brow scrunching in lines as he strides his way back over into Cloud's space, cradling the supplies in question within the crook of his knuckles. 'I've been doing that for weeks, 'cause I didn't know when I'd possibly run into you by accident afterward if we're both free, and it'd suck if we ended up wanting to do this and didn't have anything on us. I mean, hey, it's coming in handy now, right? And I purposely stocked up on travel-size, so nothing's gonna fall out of my pocket—'
'—Woah, slow down. It's fine. My bad, I probably could've phrased that better,' Cloud cuts in with unburdened gentleness, exhaling a single quiet chuckle into a closed fist. 'I was mostly surprised because I've been carrying some in my pocket during drills too, for the same reason. Pretty sure my drill sergeant would self-combust if he knew, but then again, he's never caught me. Either way … it's good to know you and I both come up with the most ridiculous things to do sometimes. Aren't we a pair.'
Zack stares in stupefied silence; that hadn't come close to any of the possible things he'd expected Cloud to tell him. So the tone of disbelief laced through Cloud's remark hadn't exactly been a scandalized one, then – more like awe at the unexpected solidarity, maybe. The gradual epiphany's kind of funny, and Zack gives off a glimmering laugh before leaning over to plant a wet, sloppy kiss into the snug nook behind Cloud's ear.
'Birds of a feather,' he agrees. It's easier to see Cloud's simple warmth from up close, in the subdued glint of his eyes and the lively flush staining his jaw; he's so wonderfully handsome in his sincerity, and Zack's only reminded of his own good fortunes, of how thankfully lucky he is.
The very slight breather they've taken with that conversation is ideal but completely short-lived, what with Zack subsequently receiving the most privileged, mind-blowing view of Cloud with knees spread out and spine curving sensuously beneath the glistening stream of water, a hand reaching back to push slicked-up fingers into himself. Zack's impatience peaks straight through the roof after that sight, the lube-damp circle of his palm stroking his own gloved cock with more fervor than he's intended – an intensity so pronounced that Cloud quickly hooks onto it, judging by the keen tremor running along his thighs and the way he gets a move on like he really can't wait any longer, either – and there's not a single second wasted on empty nonsense from that point of preparation right up until the moment Zack finally, blissfully gets to sink inside Cloud's body; the world cracks apart around them and drops away right then and there.
'Oh, shit,' he hisses brokenly. There's probably no chance in hell that either of them will end up lasting very long when it already feels this insanely good as it is, but at this point, Zack's sure that whatever they get is definitely going to be worth it – brief or not.
'Come on, Zack, move,' Cloud urges like they're in a firestorm, sounding frayed at the edges and beyond tightly wound. Zack doesn't need to be told twice; his fingers come to find Cloud's hips in a white-knuckled hold, and he starts to thrust.
He doesn't know in what way time goes by, then, exactly – whether only a handful of minutes or an eternity passes – but there's so much charged sensation flooding them both up to the ears that they find themselves too rapturously drunk with it to care, and they keep pressing on in an unspoken agreement to make every second count. Cloud tilts down a little more and drives back to meet each deep buck of Zack's hips, arching into the motion while Zack steadily fucks a string of low, guttural moans out of him; Zack's much the same in that respect, his throat getting dry and sore with all the noise being irrepressibly wrenched out of it, but ultimately, there's staunch comfort in having Cloud match every sound with one of his own.
Whatever portion of Zack's focus is still clear-cut tapers to only this, to the firm drag and slide of the length of his cock inside that perfect tight heat, to the strong but tiny ripples quaking Cloud's frame as he grips and jerks on his own cock with appetite and abandon, to the cool rivulets of water spilling like liquid glass over their flame-warm skin. Cloud looks positively wrecked as he is now, even from behind, and Zack knows that he himself is likely just as much a mess in general with how wildly incredible this feels.
Which is the reason why his usually blade-sharp SOLDIER's hearing manages to register the soft, muted tapping of approaching footsteps just a touch too late.
It's a genuinely surreal moment of dread when the door starts to swing open and Kunsel's form emerges through the gap; both his and Zack's gazes twist sideways toward one another and immediately snag together, an inevitability that Zack has no way of fighting now. He hasn't actually stilled the movement of his hips by the time they're locked in solid eye contact, but Kunsel doesn't even seem to have absorbed the scene before him in full, judging by the pleasantly neutral, relaxed leisure creasing his eyes.
'Hey Zack,' Kunsel greets casually, with a jovial air. 'You're here late—'
Cloud reaches a full arm's length over and outright flings the door shut in his face.
Zack has to take a second to be impressed by, and grateful for, Cloud's quick initiative in the situation: a natural efficiency that's both daring and attractive in any case.
The root of his belly flickers awake in an uninterrupted continuation of that thought, lighting up with a mounting want to look at Cloud in the most basic state – a crude, primal hunger to watch up close and straight-on when Cloud gradually unravels and comes undone. Ferocious yearning stays scorching in the sliver of air between them, hanging thick and unbroken.
'You're amazing. Really want to see you,' Zack hums earnestly.
'Okay. Yeah, I want to see you, too,' Cloud replies, breathless and sultry and hoarse.
The anticipation behind the words rings so bright that Zack can hardly wait. He pulls himself out with ease, and Cloud pivots on his heels so they're face-to-face – and it's almost like they're bared to each other even more this way, stripped down to their very bones. Cloud dissolves seamlessly into Zack's following touch, all open and welcoming when Zack gathers him into the smooth tiled wall at his back; supple and pliant when Zack hoists him up against it with sturdy hands; deft and limber when he folds long legs around the robust points of Zack's hips. Trusting and vulnerable when Zack reaches down, lines himself up with rough fingers, and carefully pushes up and into him again.
Nothing's going to stop them now.
Even with the new position being somewhat more precarious, and Zack having to curl his toes a little to secure more stable footing on the drenched porcelain, there's no slowing or curbing of their tempo. They slot beautifully into the cradle of each other's bodies, and meld like interlocking halves even in the unruly rise and fall of Zack rocking his hips up into Cloud in bold circular thrusts – an angle that's offering a more intense impact where Cloud's concerned, going by the much harsher whimper that suddenly scrapes its way out of his throat. He grinds down onto Zack with restless fever, pupils stunningly blown and dusky beneath his delicate spray of eyelashes; the warm and solid weight of his cock drags a leaking trail over Zack's stomach, and when he dips forward to stroke it more firmly against Zack in an evident chase for more friction, Zack readily presses in tighter to amplify the contact. Two sets of labored breathing resonate across the walls, vibrant life within a lifeless room.
Zack knows, like it's a beastly instinct, that they're careening down a razor-thin line – and their pace soon picks up in harder pulses, pulling the rigid and twining heat between their legs even more taut. Cloud tugs lean fingers over Zack's contours like he's admiring splendor, blunt fingernails raking with smoldering indulgence across the spread of Zack's chest, over the angle of Zack's shoulders, up the back of the column of Zack's neck. The boundless ache simmering within every inch of Zack flourishes untamed from that; he slants his head forward, mouthing a slick kiss into the hollow of Cloud's throat, tracing shapeless patterns into the surrounding ridges with his tongue, tasting the salt of Cloud's sweat. It eventually turns into a pouring litany of you're so hot, so tight, so good in damp murmurs against Cloud's skin while Cloud uncontrollably twists a wiry hand into his hair.
Everything blends into a haze of bruising hips and aching thighs and shallower, sloppier thrusts that are still fierce enough for Zack to hope that Cloud will continue to feel them tomorrow, to always remember this the way he knows he will. The climbing tension in his gut and his spine and his cock winds up and constricts – and when Cloud suddenly squeezes around him with astonishing pressure, the heat between them finally crests.
They both come only moments apart, with Cloud's eyes fluttering shut and shards of breath raining out of him in heavy pants, nails gouging half-circles into Zack's skin as his head tips back onto the wall, an exquisite masterpiece of ruin. Zack shatters just as thoroughly, throat seizing around a tremulous groan; blood-beats race through his veins while his vision turns white-hot, and he ruts into Cloud with all that he has left in him, coaxing out the very last of it, until every bit fades.
He doesn't think he's felt anything this incredible in his life.
The world slips back into focus before long, though it still pulses soft and quiet around the two of them, thrumming within the cooling air, as delicately alive as they both are right now. They lean into each other, foreheads moving to press together and voiceless sighs mingling in the thin gap between them; they're a sticky mess, and there's no doubt that they'll soon need to take the showers that they'd actually come here for in the first place, but for now, it's enough to just stay like this. Sated and serene and slow.
'… Hey, are you guys finished?'
Zack pulls a long, level inhale through his teeth. He almost forgot about Kunsel.
'I wasn't standing around here listening in or anything, I swear.' Kunsel's voice trickles through muffled from behind the door; he sounds genuine and understanding and not at all unsettled, which is honestly quite a relief. 'I did stay in the hallway to make sure no one barged in on you guys, though. But, uh – there's a pretty big bunch of us who just got back from a mission and were dying for a shower, so I had to send everyone to the showers downstairs when they came up here after me. They were cool with that, but now they all know what you were doing in there, just so you're aware.'
Hearing that tears a gentle, husky laugh out of Zack; it's all so ridiculous and unreal, and he's not upset about it in the slightest. Cloud huffs out a noise of amusement, too, and they both slope in for a languid, leisurely kiss, lazy and pleased.
Crazily enough, Zack thinks that if it always feels this good after they've gone without for a lengthy amount of time, maybe having to rein themselves in on occasion isn't so bad, after all.
He doesn't mind the knowing looks that everyone slides his way.
The mellow haze of contentment, satisfaction, fulfilment trickling over all his muscles and softening all his limbs right now is something that he hasn't felt in forever.
Cloud seems equally relaxed and sedate tucked against his side as they walk through the Shinra hallways together, arms draped around one another; the work day's as bustling and constant as usual, and the two of them will have to part ways in twenty minutes to go on with their respective jobs for the afternoon, but for now, only peace and comfort settles over their shoulders. A fleeting but perfect respite.
'… Wish I didn't have to go on patrol,' says Cloud, concise but clear in his regret and longing, the words coming out temperately sweet.
'Wish I didn't have to go look over Third Class mission reports, but at least we both know where we'd rather be,' Zack expresses in turn, a quiet warmth like summer imbuing the sentiment. 'That's what counts, right?'
Cloud glimmers serenely at him, and is just opening his mouth to offer a reply when a set of quickened footfalls start to echo behind them in approach – and then a light, playful smack lands on Zack's upper spine, unmistakably casual and friendly. At Zack's free side, Kunsel's good-humored face glides into view; the sight of it is so welcome, and Zack feels his current mood climbing up even further already, just from that.
'Wanted you to be the first to hear,' says Kunsel, sounding pleasantly laid-back. 'Director Lazard says he's going to hold a meeting tonight to announce the changes, but I figured you'd be really happy the sooner you know about this.'
'Oh?' asks Zack, curiosity piqued in no time at all. 'What is it? And hey, wait … if he hasn't told people yet, how do you know about it?'
'I was the one who sat down with him for well over an hour, that's how. To explain the situation, and to propose the idea, and to talk the details of that proposition over with him. Let it never be said that I'm a bad friend. I'm a hell of a good friend,' Kunsel answers with no small degree of triumph. 'Effective immediately, army troopers will be allowed to enter the private SOLDIER quarters. And yes, by the way, that does include staying the night.'
Their leisurely stroll comes to an abrupt stop.
'What,' Zack says under a faint breath; he hadn't expected that in the slightest. 'Really?'
'Yeah! We all know how opinionated Colonel Heidegger usually gets about everything, but I've been told that he was surprisingly receptive to the proposal as well. As soon as it was brought up that better social relations between the two divisions would make a difference to the mental state and thus the overall performance of his men, he was apparently all ears, because he gives a damn about results and reputation,' Kunsel raises a complacent eyebrow, distinctly pleased with himself. 'I mean, each visit will have to be recorded in advance – like, formally lodged in a book, and both Director Lazard and the commanding officer of the trooper in question have got to sign off on it before the slumber party can happen. But that shouldn't be too much trouble for you guys compared to never being able to spend the night together at all, right?'
Zack's eyes flit across to Cloud at once, his gaze wide open, and his jaw slack; Cloud's wearing the same stunned awe on his features when he turns to stare back, struck suitably speechless.
'… And listen, that's not all – I got them to sweeten the deal, too. I mentioned to Director Lazard that all of us were kind of struggling with the minimal breaks we got from duty, so starting this week, they're going to introduce an early weekends protocol: as in, half of the entire infantry and half of the SOLDIER division will be given all Saturday nights off from now on, without question. And the other half will be given all Sunday nights off,' Kunsel pushes on, coiling up one side of his mouth in a slanted, barely-there smile. 'It does mean that the labor output and work productivity on these nights will be reduced compared to usual, but Director Lazard was amenable to it, considering it involves everyone's well-being. Colonel Heidegger needed quite a bit of persuasion, from what I heard, but he agreed in the end, too. I made sure to ask for you two to be given the same day, of course. Congratulations, you guys now have Sunday nights free to do whatever you want.'
Zack lets himself submerge in the deluge of new information, indescribably overwhelmed; he swallows, throat clenching tight.
'I asked to have Sundays too, so I can steal your time and company once in a while,' Kunsel declares with good spirits, his pointed attention meaningfully fixed on Zack. 'I'm sure you and Cloud intend to spend most nights celebrating the change in rules now, but I hope you won't forget about your best pal.'
'Never. I wouldn't even dream of it. This is—' Zack starts, rough with emotion; he wholeheartedly means it with every stitch and seam keeping his body intact, with such staunch resolve that he has to take a steadying breath right after. '—I don't even have the words. I … thanks, buddy. For everything, seriously.'
'Thank you,' Cloud chimes in at his side, polite and appreciative.
Kunsel flaps a dismissive hand at that, unconcerned and visibly glad. 'No big deal. It's the very least I could do to make up for all these weeks' worth of putting a damper on your private happy-time by, you know, somehow popping up and being there in pretty much every single instance.'
'It's not like any of that was your fault. Neither of us are annoyed with you or whatever. For real,' says Zack in earnest belief and determined assurance. 'Not gonna disagree with your self-appointed status of being a hell of a good friend, just so you know, because it's damn true. You are. Even outside of this whole situation.'
'I'd say I'm quite a decent wingman, too,' Kunsel hums, his tone and timbre bright with subtle amusement. 'If anyone deserves the helping hand, though, it's you.'
Happy gratitude seeps into the marrow of Zack's bones – and parted lips stretch out into a broad grin.
Before any of them can say anything further, a flurry of movement suddenly stirs at the tip of the hallway, catching Zack's eye; when he turns to look, Sephiroth's there, powering toward them with a fierce-looking focus etched into his brow and some manner of smoky intent clouding over his eyes. A rather intimidating sight, and the few people milling around in his direct path waste absolutely no time in diving out of the way at his unswerving approach. No one would blame them, really, because Sephiroth's maybe a little scary like this, what with the levelheaded composure he's always shown nowhere to be seen.
That's not about to discourage Zack from trying for some conversation, though.
'Hey, Sephiroth!' he says sunnily, waving a hand in greeting. 'Listen, do you by any chance have a minute? I was just wanting to say sorry for these last few—'
But Sephiroth barrels past the three of them, the lingering shadow darkening his face enough that it's clear that he's running on autopilot and hasn't even seen them at all; within moments, he's made his way down the rest of the corridor, and is gone.
Zack can only blink where he's standing, taken aback.
'… What just happened?'
'You've changed him forever,' Kunsel replies in a subtly joking manner, seemingly entertained. 'He'll probably never be the same man again.'
'That's … I mean, we had a briefing earlier, about this mission that all three of us – as in, me and him and Cloud – are leaving for early tomorrow,' says Zack, and beside him, Cloud rumbles out a pained moan at the reminder. Zack feels a little sorry for him; Cloud had vaguely mentioned after the briefing in question that the destination of this operation just happens to be the one place where he doesn't want to go. 'Sephiroth was the one who led that meeting, and I didn't get a chance to talk to him before or after because he just came and left, but he looked a little off-balance then, too. Don't know if he should be tackling an assignment this big right now, but I hope he's going to be okay.'
'He's General Sephiroth.' Kunsel's tone softens at the edges, then, generous and reassuring. He leaves it at that.
Zack answers with an accepting sigh. 'Yeah, you're right.'
'… Aside from General Sephiroth not being the same anymore, I do think it all turned out okay,' Cloud interjects slowly, lips pursing in reflection. 'You know, considering everything.'
'We had to go through hell to get here, though,' says Zack, squinting his eyes cautiously as an inquisitive-looking Luxiere ambles past them in the corridor; Luxiere wisely scurries away in reaction – an obvious attempt to act natural, but Zack isn't mad about it at all, in the end. 'I'm sure we scarred a lot of people in the process, too.'
'Probably. But I don't think we should worry. I'd reckon that at least some of them can see the humor in it.' Cloud's arm tightens snugly around Zack's waist. 'I mean, thinking back, the whole thing was pretty absurd.'
Kunsel lets out an indulgent snort, and Zack follows that with an easygoing laugh, fingers squeezing Cloud's hip in affection. 'A long and hard exercise in self-control, huh. Do you think we'll do alright in the upcoming mission? There's no knowing how we'll all be splitting up or sharing the rooms once we get to the inn.'
'Why don't we find out? It's not like either of us to shy away from challenges, after all,' says Cloud smoothly, a dash of knowing in his voice.
Zack flashes him a honey-warm grin.
'Yeah. You're on.'
…
Notes: This fic is already slightly canon-divergent anyway, so yes – even though the mission they're going on is exactly the one you're thinking of, you're all most welcome to imagine that the whole Zack dying thing DOESN'T happen in the future of this universe, if you prefer. I mean, that sure as hell is what I'm imagining. I'd like to think that they get to come back and actually enjoy those hard-earned new Shinra benefits for a while, too; there's no such thing as concrete canon here, so feel free to give them whatever future you want in your head! I myself am pretty guilty of only ever wanting good times and happy endings for these boys :')
(I'd say that Nibelheim itself still burned, though, due to Sephiroth becoming a different man after the events of this fic and never recovering from it. Lol, I'm absolutely terrible).
Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this; I spent about two whole months writing this fic, so I'd truly love to hear your feedback - please let me know what you think! And come talk FF7 things with me on Tumblr (username harmonization)! I always love making new friends :)