AN: And now, on with the show! Watch me as I exploit the coming situation in order to advance the relationship between our two boys! See me as I write lengthy, somewhat pointless dialogue and descriptions and make you all think dirty! :-D


Wash

"…Damn."

Zack, trudging along in the direction of the nearest entrance to the building, stopped to peer at his mentor through dense, drizzling rain. "What?"

Angeal had flipped his mobile phone shut, and looked thoroughly disgruntled about something. He then motioned for Zack to enter the building. "Hurry up; it's miserable out here."

They came out of the rain and into the disinfectant-smelling foyer, their drenched uniforms clinging to their skin. Their faces and bare arms were conspicuously decorated with splatters of thick mud, which Zack thought was rather remarkable, seeing as the only part of them that had been touching the ground was their feet – but he then realised that training ten miles east of Midgar and then journeying back on foot to Headquarters will have meant they'd kicked up a great deal of dirt along the way. Angeal, owing to his heavy footfalls, had obviously managed to send considerably more mud flying into his face and now had what looked like large, ugly black freckles.

"What were you so pissed about?" Zack asked, peeling his leather gloves off his hands and wringing them out over the previously spotless floor.

Angeal sighed. "A pipe bust in the 1st Class quarters' showers. Now I have to use the communal ones on the second floor while it's being repaired."

Zack snorted. "Awww... diddums."

"I don't see why you find it so funny." Angeal muttered impatiently. "Because ultimately, this means we'll be sharing the same shower."

Any trace of joviality in Zack was wiped out in an instant. He stared at his mentor in disbelief. "Uh… Why can't I use it after you?"

The older man lowered his brow and looked at him as if he were a moron. "Zack. We have little over twenty minutes to report back to the briefing room, and you expect us both to be ready in said time when you know full well how long you take to shower by yourself?"

He had a point, but Zack was determined to avoid the embarrassment. "…I don't take that long."

Unfortunately, Angeal had already begun to stride off towards the elevator. Zack caught up with him, feeling the dread begin to mount. "Seriously, I don't."

"Oh really? And what about that time I was made to wait a quarter of an hour into a session because someone was still loitering around in the bathroom?"

Zack remembered. That one had come at a cost. "Okay, so I do. Is it that much of a crime for a guy to be particular about hygiene?"

"You can achieve such goals in half the time."

"I can't! My hair sucks unless I dry it right."

"It already looks like a chocobo's backside – you really needn't do much about it."

"But I-"

"Oh, shut up."

They traversed a hallway and opened the door to an expanse of asylum-white tiles that was the communal shower and changing room. Zack was familiar with this, having used it very regularly – but there was a barely-noticeable grimace on Angeal's face as he stepped carefully past the lockers (presumably to avoid slipping over on the puddles of water left behind by previous users).

"I can't even remember where the blasted things are."

Zack - feeling inwardly quite miffed that this all wasn't an elaborate joke - replied jadedly; "To the left, around those lockers."

When they were located, Angeal took one look inside and shook his head in despair. "Oh, such happy memories..."

Zack gave him an inquisitive look.

The man rolled his eyes. "In case you weren't aware, I was being heavily sarcastic."

"Oh."

His hefty boots squelched against the tiles as he stepped back over to the bench in the middle of the room, throwing off the armour from his shoulders. "Right. The sooner this is over, the better."

It hadn't really hit Zack until Angeal had pulled off his shirt that this was actually happening. Inadvertently, he stood there and stared. He was scarcely one to feel nervous, but now his heart was thudding and he wasn't even sure why.

Angeal had stopped and turned to look in a puzzled manner at his subordinate. He let his turtleneck shirt land with a dull splat onto the bench and set about unbuckling his belt. "Quit being a pervert and change. This can't be anything new to you – not when you use this room so often."

Zack felt hot colour flush his cheeks, and he looked away hastily. At least now he appreciated the meaning of that strange yet annoyingly accurate saying, 'safety in numbers'… it was true – he was accustomed to stripping off and bearing all in front of the numerous other men who used this shower room – but now he was alone, with only one other… And it was Angeal. Zack wasn't sure why this was so significant, but it seemed to have something to do with the fact that despite being around each other nearly all the time, a minimum of one item of clothing had – until now – served as a barrier between them both. It felt strange; like he was seeing an entirely different aspect of his friend, and it almost scared him to think he was still actually compelled to look.

He did indeed feel like a pervert.

"Grab a couple of towels, would you? And Gaia help you if they're not clean."

Zack, his eyes to the floor, nodded and retrieved two fluffy white towels from the airing locker, setting them down on the bench. He noticed said locker was now empty, and his eyes widened in shock. Something that Zack would rather Angeal didn't see was scrawled on the inside of the door in someone else's handwriting – a prank from a fellow recruit, no doubt – and the youth decided it would be best left hidden. "We can dry our uniforms in this one."

"Perfect. Catch!"

Heavy, cold, wet material was thrown into his arms – and he was determined not to let his eyes stray to his comrade - who was now presumably stark nude, judging by the amount of clothing now in Zack's tentative grasp. He stuffed the lot into the locker and whipped off his own shirt, but faltered at his belt buckle.

"You don't have time to dawdle about." Angeal had already headed to the showers, but was peering around the furthermost set of lockers. When the youth hesitated again, he sighed. "What, d'you think I'm going to spend the next ten minutes staring at your rear end? Please get a move on, Zack – it's only a damned shower."

And he disappeared around the corner.

Zack stood there; inwardly grateful he had been left to change on his own. He heard the sound of the water being turned on (followed by a terse word of protest at what had to be the temperature it had started out with) – and decided that showing up late and filthy for briefing would probably have far worse consequences than showering in front of Angeal. He quickly threw off the rest of his clothes, placed them in with Angeal's and shuffled timidly into the fated room.

It was a large rectangular space which was, Zack noted, horribly open. Drains in the middle of the floor, shower heads attached to the walls. Functional and boring. Zack felt that familiar unpleasant jolt in his stomach when he involuntarily caught a glimpse of his friend at one side of the room, and deliberately stood at the opposite end.

His mind distracted, Zack hit the button on the wall and was subsequently covered torso-first in freezing cold water. Upon impulse he let out a yelp of shock, and jumped backwards. "Dammit!"

"Oh sorry, I forgot to tell you – it's probably better to stand back when you turn it on."

"No actually," said Zack through gritted teeth, "I should've said something about it earlier. Probably would've reminded myself in the process."

He heard Angeal laughing quietly to himself. Zack still couldn't bear to take his eyes away from the tiles as he rinsed himself over, and found some kind of safety in that if he kept himself to himself and didn't look anywhere else, he'd manage to avoid the entire problem.

But the idea was short-lived. Zack searched his corner for any sign of cleansing products, and with a pang of grim realisation, stood up straight and asked tentatively; "Uh… Where's the shampoo?"

"Hm? Oh, it's over here."

Shit.

He continued to talk at the wall. "Um… Could you throw it over here?"

"Don't be stupid – get it yourself."

Zack gulped. He had no choice but to amble across the tiled floor – all the way keeping his eyes fixed on his feet. He spotted the blue bottle about a metre away from another pair of feet, and retrieved it as hastily as possible – but he had no sooner turned to make a speedy escape when he heard that quiet laughter again. He stopped in his tracks. "…What?"

"You know, I could either put your awkwardness down to immaturity or to something else."

Zack felt his heart skip a beat. His back still to Angeal, he continued to stand edgily in the middle of the room. "How… how do you mean?"

"What I mean is that young men usually only get that awkward when they have something – or lack thereof – that they're ashamed to reveal in front of others."

Zack, his sheer indignation overriding everything he previously felt, spun around on his heel and faced his companion. "That is an unfair assumption!"

"Hey, hey!" Angeal winced and raised a hand, abruptly facing the other direction. "That was not a cue for you to flash at me."

Zack only just realised what he'd done, and felt like an absolute moron. His face flushed red as he promptly turned back around. "Sorry."

Not only had he caught a look at his friend without any clothes on; he had also just broken that little barrier he had set up to get himself through this awkward situation in the first place. And he had done it by taking said friend's joke too seriously, as always.

He returned to his shower and Angeal had said nothing. "Sorry, man."

His mentor grunted. "I heard you the first time Zack, and yes, I forgive you for your somewhat improper presentation. Please get on with your shower before we run out of time."

Why then - after he'd finished attacking his hair with shampoo - did Zack see it fit to steal a glance behind him? Why was it - where he would usually look away through embarrassment - that he carried on staring at Angeal, whose back was partly turned to him? Men were meant to look at women like that… At least, that was a belief Zack had been brought up with, but honestly – wasn't attractiveness just as it is, male or female? After all - the guy was undeniably striking, with a face that seemed crafted like a unique and somehow faultless sculpture; his body a sturdy, powerful frame…

"Surely it's not that remarkable a sight."

Zack jumped. "Huh?"

Angeal peered irritably over his shoulder. "In case you're not aware, Zack, you seem to have diverted your attention towards my backside."

That's it, thought Zack, I'm toast. No excuses for this one. "Sorry."

Angeal sighed. "Is it so grotesque that you have to keep staring at it?"

Zack frowned. "Don't say that."

"What?"

"It's not grotesque. It's nice."

The man had never looked so bewildered in all the time Zack had known him. Angeal's expression combined disbelief and inexplicable confusion.

And all of a sudden, Zack didn't really care how or why he found his friend so appealing – nor that he was probably giving the guy the fright of his life at the moment. For some reason, it all seemed rather easy just to brush off any doubt he had or cover it up with that smooth talk he was so renowned for.

"…The heck is that supposed to mean?" Angeal muttered.

"What? I just know a nice ass when I see one." Zack replied plainly, without even a backwards glance.

"You really are a pervert."

"So sue me?"

There was a pause, until Angeal grunted. "Maybe I ought to. I'll have it filed under sexual harassment."

"You wouldn't dare."

"Watch me."

"Oh, gladly!"

"…Depraved little son of a-"

"I'm too cool to sue anyway."

…And it went on like that until the time came for them to depart; at which point Zack had waited until he knew his friend had left for the lockers. The youth made his hasty leave of the showers – nearly slipping over on a blob of shampoo in the process – and turned the corner, only to have something fluffy and white flung into his face.

Angeal, his lower body obscured by a towel of his own, shot Zack a pessimistic look. "Here's the part where you quit plodding about and get dressed. Think you can do that without spending an unfathomable amount of time on your hair?"

Narrowing his eyes and smirking, Zack wrapped the towel around himself. "You underestimate me, sir. I accomplish all!"

"…Contrary to what you believe, Zack, the sun does not shine out of your butt."

"Well, darn – I thought I was special."

Angeal looked for a moment as though he were about to say something, but replaced it with an exasperated sort of smile.

Following their somewhat colourful discussion was a companionable silence. Before long the two of them had sought to change back into their uniforms (dry now, thanks to the airing locker). Zack himself was content and relieved that this ordeal was nearly over, and pulled his boots out from under the bench with a smile on his face.

However, the feeling was short-lived. As his uniform landed on the bench next to him, the young man realised he had left it all too late to obscure what else was in that locker…

"What in the name of -"

Zack turned around, and froze in horror. Angeal, having emptied the locker, had clearly just discovered the large black letters scribbled on the inside of its door: FAIR 4 HEWLEY.

"…Zack, what is this?"

The youth gulped. "Uh… Dunno. Must've been some grunt trooper. They like stirring things up."

Angeal's face was vacant, his finger suspended in a nonchalant sort of pointing gesture in front of the offending locker. Again, he seemed like he was about to comment further on this, but instead settled for "I think I was better off not knowing what goes on in this place."

He flicked the door shut gingerly as if it were covered in something revolting.

More silence. Before long, they had changed and left the room, beginning to make their way to briefing. Zack, his conscience clear but still slightly mortified at the message on that door, bounded up alongside his mentor. He decided such things were not to be dwelt upon.

"You do have a nice ass, by the way."

Angeal continued to walk, although his pace slowed as he turned to shoot Zack a wary yet baffled sort of glare.

Zack frowned. "What? You thought I was kidding?"

Nothing further was said for a while - until both men stopped in the middle of the corridor, looked blankly at each other, and burst out laughing.