Disclaimer: Squeenix owns it , I'm just having fun with it
Fandom: Final Fantasy VII
Pairings: Cloud/Zack; Cloud/OC
Warnings: Anal, AU, Language, M/M, Minor, Non-con, Oral, SH, Violence
Apologies if you got notified twice. When I checked this chapter after posting it, the spacing and other stuff had gone to crap.
Chapter 9. Settling In
The next morning, there was a message waiting for Cloud with the dorm's guard. It was in a sealed envelope with no stamp, no indication of who had left it. He knew though. He knew who had sent it and what it was, and his stomach clenched.
"Getting love notes already, kid?" Reno asked, looking over his shoulder.
"Why would they look at me when they could have you?" It was easy to deflect Reno's attention - certainly easier, and safer, than telling him the truth.
"Like I'd fucking have anybody here, yo."
They were outside now, one foot outside. It was enough. Reno had his lighter out and his cigarette lit before his second foot had cleared the entranceway. The dorms were non-smoking, Reno, believing the rules didn't apply to him, had lit up in the upstairs hall. Kingston, one of the dorm guards, who had to have hidden cameras planted in all the common areas, was also freakin' huge. The largest human being either of them had ever seen. He had appeared moments later to rip the cigarette out of Reno's mouth.
Reno had decided that, in this one instance, he would abide by the rules. At least until he found the hidden cameras.
"So, who's sending you letters this early in the term?" He'd keep asking until he found out. Reno hated not knowing everything that was going on around him. It made him feel vulnerable and he wasn't fucking having that.
Cloud sensed the redhead's determination and figured it was better to give him something. "My mother's sick. This is just an update on what's going on with her."
"Your mama can write?" Reno teased. They'd been through the 'inbred, ignorant, hillbilly" versus 'unthinking, drugged out, hoodlum' series of insults yesterday, but Cloud didn't feel up to continuing the battle. He just wanted to know what they'd found.
"Give me a minute," and he moved to the side of the streaming mass of cadets, all hurrying to their first class. He stared at the plain envelope. Inside was the information he'd sold his body for. All he had to do was open it.
"You gonna open that, or just stare a hole through it?" Reno slouched against the side of the dorm building. Cloud jumped. He hadn't noticed the redhead leaving the crowd to join him. The boy looked at his older roommate, eyes wide and frightened, and somehow pleading for reassurance that everything would be okay. A small frown crossed Reno's brow. Suddenly, Strife looked so young. "I can open it for you, yo." He offered, and surprised himself.
That did it. Cloud gulped a breath, and shook his head jerkily. He tore open the envelope. It was beautifully handwritten, like the menu at the Hildorf.
Cadet Strife. The medical team reports that they discovered a lump in your mother's left breast. This could be nothing. We've arranged for your mother to be taken to the healer in Rocket Town as he has a mastered Sense materia. Once they have a more complete diagnosis, they will determine what treatments, if any, are advised. We will keep you informed. S
Cloud read it again. A lump. It wouldn't be nothing, he already knew that, but what if it was something untreatable, irreversible? He'd still have to go through with his part of the agreement, wouldn't he? Because Lind and Sephiroth would have done what they promised. Could he go through with it? What he'd done with Zack was so, so…. The thought of someone doing that to him in violence made his gorge rise. If his ma died anyway then there was no reason to go on, except that he'd agreed.
"Is your ma okay?"
Reno's voice pulled Cloud out of his contemplation of a nebulous future. "Um, they don't know for sure yet." He turned to his nosy roommate, folding and tucking the note away securely. "They'll write when they know more." The redhead shrugged, and let Strife lead him away, although he was already planning to read the note for himself later.
ShinRa might advertise their employee anti-harassment policies to the public, but there didn't seem to be anything like that for the cadets. There were always comments being made: sexual, racial, mental, and so on. It didn't stop at touching although most of the physical harassment was fairly mild: bums got goosed, wedgies got given, there was the occasional fight that got out of hand and resulted in medical treatment but it rarely got more serious than that. Since it stayed 'light' no one put a stop to it, or even protested much, as there was a strict hierarchy of who could harass whom.
Freshmen could harass each other as long as they were close enough in class, sophomores harassed any of the first years and other sophomores, and seniors harassed everybody but the undergrads. Undergrads for the most part, ignored the lower ranked cadets. Reno, who had theories for most things, thought it was because they were too busy ass-kissing the people above them to care what went on with the peons.
As a freshman, and a cute one he was told, Cloud often ended the day feeling like his butt would never recover from all the pinching, slapping and grabbing it had endured. Reno got comments too, with his bright hair, lean face and striking blue eyes, but he broke the fingers of the first couple of guys who grabbed him and it never happened again.
It was brutal and humiliating, but somehow they all got used to it. There were too many other things going on. In fact, it was a crazy blur.
He'd thought the first days of Recruitment had been bad, this was worse because staff expected the cadets to already know a lot of the basics. They had a lot less patience for those who had trouble keeping up. The first day was orientations, assessments, and medical exams followed by a whirlwind of instructions and locations and books and people all jumbled up with lots and lots of noise.
Surprisingly, it was Reno who steadied him, with his 'don't give a fuck' attitude. Nothing bothered him or, at least, nothing seemed to. He laughed at seniors insulting him, shrugged off instructors yelling at him, and winked at Cloud in amusement at every violation noted in his file.
He couldn't understand why Reno had... he supposed 'adopted him,' was the term. He didn't have the redhead's kind of courage. Sure, he stood beside Reno when they were caught after some misdemeanor, and he'd never admitted who'd initiated it (usually Reno). He tried to keep his face impassive but, as soon as they were released, he'd run to the nearest bathroom and puke his guts out. Reno never threw up from nerves. He just stand by the sinks with a cup of water and make jokes about bad breath, while Cloud rinsed his mouth out and scrubbed his face.
Cloud didn't discourage Reno's attention, not really. There were two reasons for this. First, being the slum rat's enemy was a damn bad idea, as Victor Moore found out.
Victor-So Very Superior-Moore, discovered that he was registered in the Building Maintenance program where they learned how to unclog the plumbing and shine up the floors. Next, he was issued with the wrong uniform; he was supposed to have the basic brown of the military cadets but his, for some reason, was the mint green of a botanical science trainee. Everyone commented on how pretty it was and even he, the elite B, was using a liniment on his ass at the end of the day. Then, his medical chart listed that he had a problem with constipation and he was given an enema.
With each mistake, each painful moment, each administrative error, Reno smiled a little meaner. He didn't just smile though, he poked and mocked and laughed at all of Victor's threats of retribution. When Victor finally struck out at Reno in a temper, he was dropped onto his stomach, his arm twisted painfully up his back, and a knife was at his throat before the others in the room could blink.
"You listen to me, bitch," Reno growled, digging his knee into the B2's spine, "your daddy may be something back in the world but in here you are less than garbage. You don't know shit and you can't fight for shit, so you shouldn't go pissing me off. You have two choices; you stay here and treat me with respect, or you fuck the hell off and stay out of my sight. If you don't do either of those things," he paused, pulling Victor's head up by the hair and smiling evilly at him, "well, let's just say an enema isn't the worst thing that can happen." Accidents happen, fatal accidents happen.
Last they heard Victor had transferred over to the Business program.
The other reason Cloud didn't try hard to discourage Reno was simple. He was scared. He was lonely, and young, and unsure and scared and being around Reno, Cloud could sometimes feel that confidence rubbing off on him. It probably wasn't true, but it was nice to think it.
Well, then there was the food, so there were actually three reasons to keep on Reno's good side.
Each meal, Reno went to the upper class line and brought back plates loaded with the fresh, rich food offered to the privileged. It wasn't enough to feed all three of them, but it was enough to relieve the unremitting blandness of the lower class menu. Reno said it was a reward for being his 'crew'. Crew being the people who helped him get away with stuff.
Among other things, Cloud would act as the redhead's diversion, often without knowing about it before hand. Reno had discovered that Cloud, with his big eyes, shy manner, and that untameable hair, was perfect for distracting secretaries and assistants while Reno did all manner of 'unofficial' things to official records. He was pretty good with store clerks, too.
Cubby first won the redhead's approval by saying, with the stupidly dreamy expression of the truly besotted, that it would have been worth anything to drive an actual Forsch 954. It was Cubby who helped the redhead with his math because you can't be a pilot if you can't figure out your lift to weight ratio, or was it weight to drag ratio? Cloud could never remember, but the two of them would spend hours comparing fixed wing versus rotary aircraft. The young blond didn't doubt for a moment that his unclassified, uneducated, roomie would one day be up in the sky.
Reno never said thanks, never acknowledged verbally, that he appreciated what they did, except that the two of them got given goodies from the high-class table. Cubby would often give his over to his friend, Dole, in a vain attempt to cheer the kid up. It didn't work and one day Dole snapped. He threw a punch at William Descartes in Stores. The other cadets managed to drag him away before anything serious could happen but it was the end of him as a pilot. He was pulled out of military training and put into Mechanical Engineering instead. He would never fly planes, but maybe he'd learn how to design them.
To over-energetic teens who expected to be taught to fight, or shoot, or fly, the course list seemed a little strange: History? Language? Personal Hygiene? they moaned. ShinRa might as well have Art Appreciation. Weapons, and Tactics were scheduled in, and there were huge blocks devoted to Physical Training, but still, Personal Hygiene?
It was Reno, of course, who spoke what every one was thinking. They were in the History class at the time, which was located in a huge lecture hall that swallowed the group of cadets, but allowed the instructor's voice to roll and echo quite nicely. Which seemed to be the point.
"What the fuck do we need this shit for?" his nasal, below-the-plate voice rang out.
"Well," the instructor responded, vowels long and plummy, and so very, very proper, "it can only help us to know where we have come from when we envision where we want to be."
"Well," Reno drawled in perfect mimicry, "I come from Under The Plate, and I want to be Somewhere Else. Later, yo," and he left. Cloud could only wish he'd had the balls to do that because it was obvious by the end of the first class that the 'history' they would learn was nothing more than pro-ShinRa propaganda, cleaned up and regurgitated.
Weapons class looked like more fun. The instructor was a solid wall of a man, built wide and high. He was the stereotypical sergeant portrayed in every war movie ever made. He talked at maximum volume and spat the words out like bullets.
"Yew little gurlies, are gunna learn how tew handle weapons! Yew will learn how tew kill yer enemies using those weapons. And yew will learn tew like it!"
Those unfortunate enough to be standing close to Instructor R.I. Purdy – whose name had to be a joke, received an unexpected gift. Since he had organized the class with the shortest in front, Cloud was one of those lucky few. When the blond wiped the spit off his face, he was further treated to a pissed-off instructor yelling and spitting in his eye from not even a finger's width away.
"Does the presence of my spit offend yew, Misster Strife? Can the pretty, little princess not tolerate a few bodily fluids? Do yew think I should be more careful of all yew gurlies? Do yew, MissterStrife?"
Cloud knew he should keep his mouth shut, but Instructor Purdy's little speech was almost exactly what the sergeant had said in that silly Wutaiin War flick he'd seen with Zack. Practically before he had the thought, and definitely before his brain could sensor it, out popped, "SARGE! NO, SARGE!" in perfect mimicry of the movie's doomed, young hero.
It was easy to understand how the movie had become number one in the theatres when over half the class burst out laughing, clearly 'getting' the reference. At least they thought it was funny. Instructor Purdy did not.
"Dew yew think yew are funny, MISSter Strife? I have seen that movie, and it is an insulttew be compared to that fake, piece of shite. Dew yew hear me, MISSter Strife?"
They could probably hear him in Wutai. 'Don't say it, don't say it! "Sir! Yes, Sir!" He let out a relieved breath.
"Dew yew know why he was a fake piece of shite, Misster Strife?" Before Cloud could answer, Purdy was back in his face, volume turned up to ear-splitting, "I'LL TELL YEW WHY HE WAS A FAKE PIECE OF SHITE!"
He stalked in front of the class, "Because the point of training yew pathetic pukes is not for yew tew die for your country. It is so that yew can make the other poor, puke die fer his! DEW YEW HEAR ME?"
As one, the whole class answered, "SARGE! YES, SARGE!" Ensuring both Instructor Purdy's nickname and Cloud's reputation as a guy with brass balls.
Unlike Cloud, many of the cadets had very little formal training in basic math or language skills. One thing about being in the military, whether they were reading orders or doing inventory, they would need to know how to do these things.
Some couldn't add or subtract, let alone do complex equations. Most could read regular print, but reading cursive, let alone writing it, had them clutching their hair. Cloud was actually ahead in these classes because Mayor Lockheart had to let him be tutored with his daughter. Because of this, Cloud was often 'volunteered' as teacher's aide, walking the aisles and helping anyone who needed it.
After Reno's performance in History, Cloud was surprised when his delinquent friend showed up, and stayed, for both the Math and Language classes. The reason behind Reno's math attendance was easy to figure out – it was those speed to lift ratios again, but his reason for staying in Language was more obscure.
At first, Cloud was convinced it had more to do with what their instructor wore rather than any desire on his part to make his writing legible. The redheaded lech had many complimentary things to say about Instructor Tory's legs and her butt, and how they looked in those short, tight skirts. He especially liked how the material hugged her curves when she reached up to write on the board.
It reminded Cloud of Zack, of what he'd said that first day when Cloud had been wearing his old, tight pants. Your ass deserves to be hugged. He shook himself. He was bored in Language anyway and thinking of the dark-haired, bouncy First was no way to keep his mind on the lecture.
Then, one evening he returned to their room after another pointless meeting with Hansin and found Reno laboriously reading from the Language textbook. He had his tongue out, when he wasn't sounding out the words, and he kept his finger on the page to mark his place but he was definitely doing the assigned reading.
"Hey, Reno," he said casually. There was no way he would comment on Reno's activity and maybe make him feel bad or defensive about it. That's how he'd been treated most his life. He wasn't going to make anyone else feel like that.
"Shrimp," Reno replied absently.
Cloud was about to roll into his bunk when Reno stopped him. "What the fuck is this word, preem-in-nent?"
Cloud looked at it, "pre-em-in-ent," he answered, separating the syllables, "It means 'better' or 'superior' I think. Like Victor thinks he is." Reno snorted in appreciation.
"That doesn't fit with the rest of the sentence, yo," he complained.
Cloud read it through, "Yes it does. They're talking about what's best way to restore peace to Wutai."
"They are?" He squinted at the page. "I don't see 'get the fuck out of it' as an option, do you?"
It was Cloud's turn to snort. "Not a chance. Remember, this book was written by ShinRa. There's no way they'd say that." The blond had been skimming the essay as he spoke. Knowing it was something he'd have to read anyway. "That can't be right." He muttered.
"Yo, that's what I said."
"Not the sentence; the whole paragraph. It can't say what I think it says."
He took the book away from his roommate, to get a better look at it. Reno promptly took it back, laughing. "Grab a ladder, shrimp, and get your ass up here. You can help me with this shit."
That started a nightly ritual of reading the textbooks to each other. At first, it was just the two of them, but Cubby soon joined in, taking a turn reading the chapters aloud while the others followed along in their own textbooks. Reno rarely read out loud, and he wouldn't let them read anything he wasn't interested in or couldn't see the benefits of. The History books were ignored completely. Reno had decided the instructor was a pompous ass and, since nothing of any value ever came out of an ass, why listen to the instructor.
After Victor was routed, it was just the three of them. Sometimes they'd read; sometimes they'd help with each other's essays. They practiced moves the Sarge had taught them and made fun of the way he talked. Often, Reno and Cubby would sit and drool over the capabilities of various aircraft and sports cars – they spent hours at that.
Cloud imagined this was what it would've been like to have brothers. He didn't forget that Reno would sacrifice everyone else before placing himself at risk, and he knew Cubby didn't really care for anything but his airplanes, but it was still nice. It made him smile inside with a secret bubble of contentment.
Of course, it couldn't last.
AN the Sixth: I am a war movie buff, from 'To Hell and Back' to 'Tropic Thunder' I've seen tonnes and enjoyed many of them. Who guessed that the 'stupid Wutai war flick' Cloud & Zack see in Chapter 4 is based on 'The Dirty Dozen' starring Lee Marvin? The DI in this chapter is based on Gunnery Sergeant Hartman in 'Full Metal Jacket'. The line Purdy uses at the end is paraphrased from this famous quote: "No bastard ever won a war by dying for his country. He won it by making the other poor dumb bastard die for his country." General George S. Patton, US Army.
AN the Seventh: To understand why Cubby and Reno drool over a car check out my inspiration at I want one. Red would be fine. D
