Disclaimer: CCFF7 and the characters do not belong to me. The love and writing does. Does that cover my ass enough?

Warning: yaoi, language, alcohol, etc. If you don't like Sephiroth and Genesis together as a lovely pile of man-love, then back the fuck off and go away. Thanks!

Author's Note: This is a cross-over scene with Lying is a Dance for Two. It happens not long after the prologue of The Memory of Falling. Please R&R! They keep me writing and make me update a lot more often. Remember how much I updated The Memory of Falling? Every day! That was because of reviews.

Music: "The Turks (CCFF7 Mix)" –CCFF7

HEAD IN THE CLOUDS

It was a simple matter, easy to arrange, easy to cast eyes away from. ShinRa had money set aside for such things, and it was child's play for a seasoned veteran to get a hold of some and put it to its preordained use. The Goblin Bar, a swanky little piano joint next to the theater on Loveless Avenue, was mostly rented out, everything paid for, ready for their enjoyment.

And the enjoyment of Lazard Deusericus, the new Director of SOLDIER.

Why the Turks would be throwing him a welcoming party was a secret, like many of the things going on behind ShinRa's walls. Tseng's lips were sealed. He let a thin smile twitch at the corner of his lips from over his glass, still mostly full. Hawk-like eyes focused across the room, a splash of silver against the deep browns and reds of the bar's interior out of place.

Who would not recognize the up and coming star of SOLDIER? Tseng took another sip, watching the young man like a predator might, though not with those intentions. He was a master of observation. A simple glance over could reveal a person's lifestyle to him, a simple sniff giving away even the most intimate details. Tseng was not close enough to smell, no, but he could see the faraway look in those mako green eyes, their slits dilated just enough to tell the Wutaian Turk that something was going on in that head of his.

Feline grace propelled him away from his seat at the bar, a cushioned stool, strides long and smooth taking him straight across the room. None of his Turks tried to stop him. They knew how to spot a man on a mission, as trained to. For a second Reno looked as though he would try to stop Tseng. Luckily for the redhead, he kept silent. Tseng breezed past them, taking a silent seat next to the young SOLDIER, another sip coming with it.

Surprisingly enough, Sephiroth did not even move at Tseng's sitting next to him. He did not snap out of his thoughts. He did not even seem to notice the lean framed Turk sit down, much less so close. That was out of the ordinary. Hojo would have thrown a fit. Normally Sephiroth was sharper than the masamune, always alert, always on ball.

Not tonight, it would seem, and the silver haired youth did not even have a drink in front of him yet.

"Daydreaming?"

With a start, Sephiroth jumped, eyes narrowing as he cast a keen glare at Tseng. He had been caught and knew it. That smile twisted slightly more on Tseng's lips. Normally he would have given himself a victory sip, but he needed to slow down. He was a featherweight when it came to alcohol and would prefer to conceal it seamlessly, like he did with everything else of his personal life. Tseng planned on only having one drink all night, slowly sipping at it so no one noticed that he could not stomach alcohol.

Since Sephiroth made no sound other than a low, irritated grunt (Tseng had been hoping for an explanation), he prodded with his low, skillful voice. It was so smooth one might have considered it a purr. That was how Tseng got people to talk so easily. "Someone take your fancy?"

The moment of hesitation, or rather few moments, made Tseng think the tight-lipped SOLDIER would remain his usual, reserved, privative self. He was wrong, thankfully, when the young man gave a nod, some of that distracted look returning to his eyes. Tseng almost let out a sigh of relief, but held it back, carefully. It was his job to be as cool and level headed as he was acting now, even if this was off hours. Tseng demanded respect, and half of it came from the fact people thought he was always so professional, and that it was not just a carefully planned act.

He had more important matters to focus on now, like getting the hero to talk. "Does this special someone have a name?"

Surprise flashed across those facial features for a mere second, before he went back into a blank slate. Tseng interpreted it to mean that Sephiroth did not know this crush's name. That would make this more difficult, though decidedly less awkward. "What do they look like?" He was careful not to say she or he in the question, just to save himself future trouble. Tseng had no idea what someone so abnormal as Sephiroth would be into. He left the gender question open. No need to alienate him when answers were just starting.

"Gorgeous."

Tseng took another sip, deciding he would need it. Sephiroth was not helping him get anywhere. This was like pulling teeth, even. Tseng remembered that being a most unpleasant experience, and this was ranking in line with it. "Do you like their hair? Eyes? Anything?" Tseng prodded, refusing to name a gender again. Gorgeous did not say male or female, not that Tseng had any right to know. Wait, he was a Turk. He had a responsibility to know.

"He has hair like fire." Sephiroth spoke slightly higher than he usually would, a wistful tone to his musings. A faint smile touched his pale lips. "And eyes like ice."

How poetic. Tseng tried scanning his recent memory. There was no one like that in SOLDIER. In fact, there were no redheads in SOLDIER. Reno had green eyes, so that was ruled out immediately, and thankfully. Tseng might have lost his dinner had it been Reno. Who…?

Oh.

Just recently they had visited Banora to get a full tour of the facilities there. Tseng remembered it well. The Banora White pie was absolutely exquisite. He let his mind scan over the whole ordeal, remembering the redheaded son of Mayor Rhapsodos, who was so confident and eager, offering some of the pie to Sephiroth. The funny part of it all was that Sephiroth had refused, dashing all that enthusiasm and hero worship in an instant. To think, Sephiroth was more caught by him than his cold denial let on.

"You could always ask for an assignment to Banora. I am sure the new Director wouldn't mind." Tseng glanced over in time to see pink dust across Sephiroth's cheeks. The great hero was blushing? That deserved a victory sip, which he took. There was a warm buzz hovering in his brain, but it was still not too much to think through. That would take two drinks, which Tseng never planned on getting to. "If you were to ask for a taste of Banora while you are there, I'm sure a certain someone wouldn't mind serving you himself."

That blush only deepened, Sephiroth looking down at the table. Tseng noticed a nervous swallow, shaking his head. This was going to be an interesting night.