Author's Notes: I remember, once upon a time, a challenge laid upon me by a good friend of mine. He was a writer I respected (and I still do), and it was a quaint thing. So began the short lived and ill fated Shin-Ra Mentality series. But that is in the past, and my recent nod to it was in the form of my story Indulgence. Today I nod to a specific phase of the challenge we had back then. Our goal was something interesting. For this challenge we had to follow a pattern with our writing. First sentence, one word. Second sentence, two words. And so on and so forth for twenty three sentences. It's not easy to create a twenty three word sentence I will tell you now. But, in memory of that wonderfully fun challenge, I attempt it again today with a new theme to it. Let's see if anyone figures out why the title is what it is, and just what that title means. Prize to anyone who PMs me with the correct answer.

Theme: Food

Forty-Two

"Coffee."

"Black, right?"

"Yes, just black."

"You're sure that you…"

"Just give me the coffee." The words were filled with annoyance.

"Right away sir," mumbled the waitress nervously. With that she rushed off to the kitchen.

"Why are you always so mean to her Reeve?"

The executive glared hard at the young SOLDIER before him. It was the same question every morning, with the same answer. Someday Zack would learn not to question and Reeve not to answer. Today was not that day, so their ritual would run its course again. Yet the defense would be completely empty and the rebuttal without its former passion.

"Every day I come in here and order the same cup of coffee," Reeve sighed.

"And that doesn't give you any license to be short with her," was the usual response.

What Reeve wasn't expecting was what was actually said, "Yeah, you have got a good point there."

Reeve looked up, ready to use his normal 'but she's always our waitress', but instead found himself stunned. Zack was changing the game on him when he was finally sure of the rules and it wasn't fair. For nearly a year they had come to this place, shared a morning meal, and moved on without another word. Now was not the time to change the good thing they had going, or to rid themselves of their comfortable silence.

"Zack," Reeve said, his voice low and pleading, "don't do this right now, I'm not ready to give up your friendship yet."

The dark haired youth chuckled at the foolishness of his executive, because he had come to see Reeve as his, and only his.

"I have no intention of giving it, or you, up just yet," he purred, leaning across the table to lay his hand on Reeve's. "The way I see it, Mister Tuesti, you are stuck with me for as long as you're willing to have me, and some weeks extra."

"I," Reeve started, but could find no way to respond to the mere idea of that promise, much less how to react, so he didn't try.

"What, did you think that I came here for the food, because we both know it sucks, hell my toast is barely brown bread." Here Zack shook his head and gave Reeve's hand a reassuring squeeze, "I'm not here for the service, Reeve, I come only to see you."

It all would have been rather touching if it wasn't for the fact that it was Zack speaking and it wasn't Reeve he was speaking too. As it was, this was them, and Reeve was more than used to Zack's play flirting and wasn't one to take the bait so plainly laid out. The problem with that fact was that he was so sure that he knew when Zack was playing, that he wasn't able to know when he was serious. So, as could be expected, Reeve pulled away and sent a withering glare in the direction of the man he considered friend, a reminder that he didn't buy it. These days Zack wasn't quite sure what was joking and what was serious anymore when Reeve was around him, because there was just no way of knowing what he wanted.

"I'm not in the mood for any of your games today," Reeve almost snarled, placing his hands into the safety of his lap and glaring around in search of the waitress.

Zack frowned down at his hand as if it had betrayed him, and found himself unable to do anything but miss the warmth he had just held, "Neither am I, not anymore."

When he rose to leave, appetite gone and desire for company all but fleeing him, Zack couldn't help but growl under his breath as Reeve's hand flashed out and closed around his arm. For a while they didn't say anything, Zack just stood there and Reeve just sat there, until the spell was broken by the waitress finally arriving with a mug of tar posing as coffee. With the arrival of his mug Reeve released his captive and gladly took the cup of pseudo-poison into hand so that he might sample the horrid liquid within, desperate for any distraction from the situation. Still, neither of them spoke for a while, and Zack did not return to his seat, leaving things uncomfortable until Reeve finally put the drink aside and pressed his hands together, as if he was praying.

"I expect," he said, starting slow to find courage that he was lacking, "that you would not," the executive continued, speeding up, "mindjoiningmefordinnertonight," and the last words were rushed out as if they were only one word.

Zack turned on his heels, something normally reserved for quick retreats from a rather irritated Sephiroth (the irritation usually caused by Zack doing something crafted specifically to annoy the General of course), to look at Reeve in shock. Reeve didn't react to the movement, daring not to get his hopes up, praying still that Zack would not be horrified, that maybe for once the teasing wasn't all teasing, and waited for an answer, any answer at all. When Zack smiled fondly down at him it was all the answer he needed, and suddenly all the questions of 'where would I take him' and 'what time should I say' and 'what if he says no' faded into oblivion. After all, with that kind of beautiful smile turned upon him, with that look of joy in those dark eyes, with that gentle face covered with signs of happiness, no, ecstasy, what kind of bearing would those questions have on anything? Suddenly all the fears, and all the uncertainty in his life melted away because Zack was, in that Zackish way (which currently included shouting and whoops of joy in front of the whole dinner), answering the only question that mattered to Reeve.