Current chronology: Negotiations, Call of Duty, Blackmail, Qualifications, Exposed, Clean, Demand, Officer Down, Recovery. Chapters not posted here can be found on LJ (more info in my profile).
Disclaimer: dood, fanfiction. Kingdom Hearts, Final Fantasy, and the characters and universes therein are the property of Disney and Square Enix. I receive no remuneration for this work; it is a parody and as such utilizes the Fair Use clause of the Copyright Act.
Call of Duty: Negotiations
It's quiet in the office. Most of Officer Cloud Strife's colleagues have already headed home to be with their families now that swing shift is over, and graveyard is still in briefing, so he's basically on his own with the exception of one other dedicated (read: lonely) officer on the opposite end of the room.
It's dim, too. The overhead lights have been turned off in favor of individual desk lamps, providing just enough illumination to prevent eye strain. The only sounds are the scratching of cheap black pens on paper as the two of them whittle away at never-ending piles of paperwork.
Cloud is startled out of the monotony by the slap of stiff paper hitting his desk. He looks first at the manila folder now sitting atop the forms he'd been filling out, then up at the man who put it there.
"Sergeant?" he asks, reaching for the folder and glancing at the name on the tab. Leonhart, Squall. He lifts an eyebrow.
"I know everything in your file," Leonhart says calmly, quietly. And he would, naturally, being Cloud's higher-up. "I know you're clean," he continues, keeping his voice low and soft so there's no chance of eavesdropping.
Cloud nods slowly, brow still arched even though he's now realized where this discussion is heading.
"If we're going to do this, you need to know what's in mine, too."
Cloud stares at him for a moment with a small, faintly uncertain frown, glances over at the other officer, still buried in her own paperwork, then flips open the file to the first section. Health records. He skims through the first couple of pages—up on all immunizations, chickenpox as a kid, hardly any sick time at all since he joined the force—and then scans a little more carefully when he gets to the last few, detailing the most recent physicals Leonhart has had, including the compulsory drug and alcohol testing they all undergo on a regular basis. Clean, of course.
Tucked behind all of those is a loose-leaf page that has clearly just been added, and isn't generally the kind of thing he'd expect to find in someone's file. It has a time stamp of yesterday, and confirms that Squall Leonhart is, in fact, free of sexually transmitted diseases.
Squeaky clean.
"Nothing," he says after a moment, shrugging one shoulder to try and disguise the fact that he's relieved beyond measure. He looks back up, meeting blue-gray eyes that shine almost silver in the glow of his lamp. "You couldn't just tell me?"
"You're greener than you look if you think you should have just taken my word for it." This time it's Leonhart who lifts an eyebrow, though there's a faint smile lurking beneath the surface that indicates he knows Cloud knows better than that.
The blond chuckles softly, handing the file back. "Not as green as you think," he murmurs, relaxing a bit more into his chair and exchanging an evaluative gaze with his commanding officer.
After a few seconds, a sudden shuffling of papers and a heavy sigh from across the room breaks the moment, and they both glance over to their female companion.
"I give up. I am done for the night," she announces, dropping her pen into an empty coffee mug and switching off her lamp. She stands up and stretches, all long limbs and grace, then gathers up her jacket, waving at them on her way to the door. "Sergeant, Strife."
Cloud lifts one hand in return. "Night, Tifa."
"Have a good weekend, Lockheart." Leonhart nods, discreetly folding up that last page from his file and tucking it into his breast pocket.
"You too, sir. Don't work too hard, boys." She grins wearily and disappears into the lobby, and the door drifts noiselessly shut behind her.
"I'll stop by the lab tomorrow before shift," Cloud offers once she's gone, trying not to sound too eager, though the subtle look of approval in the other man's eyes when he says it makes him want to go pound on the lab's door right now, in the middle of the night, just so he can get proof on paper that much sooner. Warm stirrings of arousal begin to settle in his gut the longer that gaze remains on him, and he clears his throat and tries to change the subject before his body gets him in trouble. "So, not even a broken arm as a kid, huh?"
"I'm pretty resilient," Leonhart says with a small shrug, settling on the right side of his desk with one long leg bent over the front edge, inches from Cloud's arm. He's clearly comfortable revealing the extent of his interest now that they're alone, and his lips curl up on one end, forming a casual, sexy smirk that the blond would kill to see more of. Figuratively speaking. "I can handle things getting a little...rough," he adds slowly.
Any hope Cloud had had for distracting himself is washed completely away by the implications of those words. But it honestly wasn't a wholehearted attempt in the first place, so he just gives up and lets that warmth take deeper root instead of trying to smother it. He can play this game, too.
"Is that so?" he murmurs in reply, voice suddenly husky and a tease of a grin playing on his lips.
Leonhart nods slightly, eyes darkening from silvery to gunmetal. "Not looking for a relationship," he clarifies, arching a brow as if concerned that might be a deal-breaker.
It's not.
"Neither am I," Cloud reassures him. He takes a chance by shifting slightly in his chair, turning so his knee is just touching the other man's calf, and his heart jumps into his throat when Leonhart doesn't move away, and in fact presses back just slightly, acceptance of his first move towards something physical between them.
He knows they're treading on dangerous ground just being in this kind of proximity when the next shift is due to straggle in at any moment with hot coffee and orders for the night, but the electric pull he feels where they touch is addicting and far too strong to ignore. He glances towards the door before curling his hand lightly behind Leonhart's knee, thumb stroking at the inside of his thigh in tentative exploration.
The brunet gazes down at him in a way that's not at all discouraging, but after only a few seconds he looks up at the clock on the wall and makes a small, thoughtful noise. To Cloud's suddenly hyper-aware senses, he sounds almost disappointed.
As soon as their eyes meet again he's sliding forward off the desk, probably deliberate in the way he moves because without Cloud doing anything at all his hand grazes further and further up the back of his firm thigh, until the older man is standing upright with Cloud's wrist in a rather incriminating position.
"Don't be late for duty, Strife," he says softly, evenly, though by the tension in his frame he seems to be just as affected by the sudden intimacy as Cloud. Those slate blue eyes are glinting down at him with equal measures of desire and authority, and he can feel further proof in the heat that emanates against his wrist until Leonhart takes one slow, careful step away. "I won't have you slacking off."
Cloud swallows hard, and despite how tight his pants have become he rises out of his seat automatically, out of respect.
"When we're...not specifically on duty, call me Leon. I can't be your commander, and you can't be my subordinate. Do you understand why?"
Cloud nods. Of course he does.
Leonhart nods in approval, and, seeming to remember something, tacks on one final condition. "When we're alone—you call me sir, I might have to kick your ass. Call me Squall, I will kick your ass."
The narrowing of his eyes brooks no argument, and Cloud nods again promptly. "Not a problem, sir."
"I'll see you tomorrow, then," Leonhart says finally, turning to head for the exit. "Good night...Cloud."
Cloud can't help but shiver at the way he's said his given name, soft and slow as if he likes the feel of it on his tongue. "Good night," he echoes quietly as the other man passes through the door. "Leon."