Disclaimer: I own nothing and make no money from this work. Anything recognizable to the Final Fantasy VII series and its associated parts belongs to Square Enix and affiliated companies.

Green Dreams

Chapter Sixteen: Many Paths and Errands

His face was red, there were pebbles on his hands, soot in his fingernails and dirt in his mouth, and Cloud had managed to forget everything but it for once—it was wonderful.

Parkour was a gritty sport at its best, its roots coming from city dwellers running from police and gangs. Cloud had thought of it first only in terms of usefulness, thinking only of how that sort of agility and awareness of the environment could be applied in fighting and future events. Even now that was his overarching goal, but it didn't mean he couldn't enjoy it.

There was something about being slammed into the ground during a practice spar that made Cloud just want to get up and do it again. It might have been that bit of masochist in him, but he liked a rough opponent who wasn't afraid to turn a push into a shove. It wasn't fun and rewarding if there weren't bruises and dirt in the end, and parkour was certainly left him a dirty and sweaty mess. Reno must have felt the same way, because his grin was saying it all.

They were on a set of steps leading down from a dark building in an abandoned part of the slums. There were quite a few of them, mostly because they were Shinra property and had been testing ground sites for weaponry. The Shinra labs had a couple of spots here for mutant testing, and that cleared out this area real fast. Cans and newspapers drifted about in the dirty wind that swept this way east, neither refreshing nor particularly cool. The dark, hulking shapes of buildings threw them into deeper shadow and even though it was mid-afternoon, evening was taking shape here.

Reno had called it safe. Reno's idea of safe, however, left much to be desired. Cloud had slipped an extra weapon with him just in case.

The building before them sat on a raised dais with a large front courtyard that might once have been something great. The mortar was cracked, the stone fountain chipped and long run dry. It was wholly unimpressive now except for the massive staircase Cloud and Reno were at the bottom of.

The steps they were on were directly under Cloud's nose, his breath swirling up dust with every exhale. He could have relaxed his arms and laid his cheek on the ground, but then his legs might have given way if he let himself. That, and one of Reno's buttons were staring up at him. Reno lost more buttons than Cloud could imagine. Their feet were up against the wall, above their backs in a handstand position, forcing all of their weight on to the palms of their hands. It was a distinctly uncomfortable pose, and Cloud had a feeling he'd have burns on the bottom of his palms before this was over. He needed to get some decent gloves soon.

A dank, sweaty wind rustled by them and out of the corner of Cloud's eye he could see a couple of empty liquor bottles rolling away with it. A newspaper, musty and yellow and probably teeming with germs, hit one of his upraised legs. Cloud let go of the disgust and shook his left leg a couple of times before he managed to get the old newspaper off it.

His hands were positioned on two different levels of steps, one higher than the other, and the exertion of holding up his entire body weight for a prolonged period of time shook his shoulder blades and biceps with the stress. Reno was a couple of steps down from Cloud in the same position. He was sweating and trembling even more so, but equally determined. The point of the exercise was to move up and down the stairs on their hands, while their feet guided them against the wall. It was an excellent workout for their arms, though not related in particular to parkour. Cloud didn't mind any extra training; he wasn't overly fond of weight lifting, so the novelty of this method of muscle building was exciting.

"I'm… switching over." Reno's voice was difficult to understand, his vocal cords being constricted from the position. His face matched his hair from all the blood rushing down into it, and Cloud was sure he looked just as good right now.

Reno's hands disappeared from Cloud's view, and Cloud felt a wind go by as the redhead kicked his legs up. In that handstand, his legs bending at the knees to maintain balance, Reno hobbled his way to the other side of the stairs. It was a more impressive feat once Cloud had tried it and discovered how much effort it took to maintain. As soon as Reno's feet hit the wall he let out a loud sigh. Cloud knew exactly how he felt. They'd done this enough times to recognize the momentary relief when the burn ebbed from their arms for a couple seconds. It was back in just moments though, especially when climbing back up.

Cloud watched for a moment, lifting his head to keep his eyes on Reno as he moved. He could feel the sweat sliding down his cheeks and out of his hair, but ignored the persistent urge to wipe it away. He'd only get more grit on his face since his hands had been pressed against the ground for some time now. Cloud shuffled down to the bottom of the staircase and then lifted his body back into the air, resting everything on his hands. He'd fallen more times than he could count doing this, but around the fifth time he'd gotten the handstand down pact. He came as far from the other wall as he dared before letting his feet slide down until they touched it. The relief was only there for a moment.

Now he had to go up.

As backbreaking as the exercises were, Reno always tried to make it a race or competition to keep their spirits up. Cloud had never really had to work at being strong before—by the time he'd joined up with AVALANCHE he'd been mako enhanced beyond most First Class SOLDIERs, and he got stronger just fighting all the beasts that AVALANCHE kept running into. That wasn't how it worked here though, so Cloud did his best to adapt, and if he got to beat Reno occasionally at a race, then the victory was that much sweeter.

It was a little known fact that Reeve Tuesti was a doodler.

He had a finely colored, fake wood desk covered with penned doodles he'd done over the years. Most useful for when someone actually visited his office and he was bored to tears with their talk. He'd drawn his own knot into the wood and the drawing had become so complicated he got dizzy from looking at it for too long.

There were packets and folders strewn around the cramped room, some drawn on with little cartoonish faces and others with just complicated lines curving all over. His desk was backed into the corner with a side angle of the lone window on one wall. He had a plant off in the corner, its ferns and sprigs reaching longingly out towards the window. Whether for genuine sunlight or death Reeve hadn't dared to imagine.

He hated this office. It was crowded with the filing work and papers he was continually dumped with, the cheap, metal cabinets on the walls were already full to the brim. Without a proper assistant or a real department most of the work fell on him. Even as the Head of Urban Development, he had little funds and even less help.

Shinra had never really appreciated the environmental side of science or his input at conference meetings. It had gotten to the point that he had just stopped trying. It had been maddening at first, and he was still embarrassed that after his third meeting as head he'd thrown his paperweight at the wall out of anger.

By now he was just tired of the same old routine. He'd had a position on the board for over seven years and been at Shinra even longer without seeing any kind of real change. The only departments that had changed were the other science associated ones: Scientific Research, Weapons Research, and of course SOLDIER.

The only reason Reeve thought he had even become Head of Urban Development was because they'd never heard a peep out of him when he was a part of the Environmental Science department. He'd been a regular worker for six years when he'd gotten the sudden promotion at the same time they dissolved his department and turned it into "Urban Development". And to think, he thought he'd earned it at the time.

Well, change wouldn't come from the inside, Reeve had found out. His position didn't equate with power, and he found the corruption started from the core. To make changes it meant working from the outside in or the bottom up, and he'd already started.

Maintaining his still stance, Cloud could feel the minor spasms in his stomach and the sweat drops were sliding off the sides as the humid heat hung unrelenting around them. His toes were starting to hurt from being clenched so tight and the idea of a foot cramp was steadily growing on his mind. His hands trembled from where they were locked behind his lower back, his knuckles aching as he unconsciously tugged on his fingers to help keep his balance.

Reno was far worse off than he was, and had resorted to pushups since he couldn't keep up the punishing position. Cloud would have laughed at the angry look on the other's face when he stopped, but his abdominal muscles probably would have given out. The blond's morning routine seemed shabby compared to what Reno had them doing. It had him vowing to make a more rigorous workout to match, that is, if he could ever stand again.

It was a strenuous version of sit-ups that Reno had him doing. His feet were locked under the hoop of the first rib of a bike rack, while he sat on the second. This was proving to become vastly uncomfortable over time, but Cloud told himself the pain was the exchange for the workout. From this locked position, he used his stomach muscles to raise and lower his upper body, almost touching the back of his neck to the next rib. If he didn't come out of this with abs of steel he was going to be sorely irritated.

When Reno had said strength exercises, Cloud had thought of the usual pull-ups, jumping and running, maybe even lifting weights if they could get some proper ones from the SOLDIER's closet in the gym. But the way Reno used the environment even in this 'safe' area spoke a lot about his knowledge of the slums and his ability to improvise—or steal good techniques from others.

Reno was down the rack from him, his hands on one hoop and his feet on another doing pushups that Cloud couldn't see, but could hear in the other's ragged breathing.

"You know… I tried to do this st-steadily for years." Reno's voice was choppy at best, his harsh panting and how he was actually speaking towards the ground with his pushups made it difficult to understand him.

"Why… didn't you?" Cloud's abs immediately protested at the extra breath it took to speak the words. He ignored the spasm and kept up his rhythm.

"Couldn't get the… motivation to do it. Didn't need it… as much. But now… we got all kinds of… competition." Reno was practically wheezing, and Cloud didn't know why for the life of him Reno was talking about this up now. He couldn't think of anything good to say in response either. Reno was waiting for something, some kind of affirmative or even a straight negative, but Cloud wasn't sure what the question was.

"Hey… Cloud." Cloud grunted to let him know he'd heard. "SOLDIER… works in teams, right?"

Oh.

The "we" should have been the cue but Cloud hadn't really been paying that much attention. He leaned back on his last sit-up, resting his head on the last bar, Reno just one over from him. Cloud's view was of Reno bobbing up and down in front of him, moving seemingly upside down, his face sweaty and red with exertion. He had the uncomfortable feeling of a sweat drop weaving its way through his hair then moving down his shirt.

"Yeah, platoons," Cloud was able to say. On the next set he was able to look down at Reno just long enough to catch his eye before both went back to counting.

These reports would never be done. By the time Reeve even got halfway through the left pile, more had grown from secretaries and messengers on the pile to the right. Somewhere not so deep in him he damned himself and his anal thoroughness that didn't let him skim these and sign. He could hardly get his eyes to focus on all the fine print, which was the most important part since this was Shinra. The moment "the" started to look like every word on the line and every line was exactly the same as the one before, he knew he needed a break. A cup of coffee was in order.

Reeve pushed back his seat from his chair and winced as the back connected with the wall. There was a lovely dark line there from the years of abuse and a cheap paint job. He slipped out from behind his desk and made his way to the door. Filing cabinets lined every wall, and Reeve ignored the multiple boxes sitting on the floor next to them, some of which he had to step over just to get out. They were all filled with rejected plans and copies upon copies of mindless paperwork.

The hallway outside was clear; Reeve didn't think he had ever run into anyone from his own department here. In fact, he didn't think he even knew what they looked like—he'd only seen their names on top of documents to sign. There were three other offices on this floor and three janitorial closets. Six rooms, and only three actually belonged to his department. He was king of this hallway and just about that. He couldn't even sell the strangely olive-colored carpet to fund anything, not with so many cigarette burns and odd coffee stains—at least he hoped they were coffee stains.

The only coffee machine near him was four stories down. It actually belonged to some of the Weapons Department managers, but he was a Shinra employee. If they were allowed to abuse their position, he was morally free to liberate some coffee from their tyrannical hands. They were the ones who had jacked up their salaries and were allotted things like espresso-making coffee machines. Reeve didn't think anyone on that floor, or any of the surrounding floors, had ever used that feature, but it was there.

That really irked him more than their abuse of power. Waste of space and money. He'd even forced himself to get an espresso on more than one occasion to see if he felt better justifying why they bought it. It didn't.

The stairs were even quieter than the hallway and his shoes were loud as they echoed. Many employees didn't even know Shinra had stairs. Reeve wanted to be annoyed at them for their ignorance, but knew feelings like those would get him nowhere. He hadn't gotten anywhere for years on his sense of justice, but the only man who did and lived was probably the General. The rest of Shinra had to abide and work within their limits, and Reeve knew his grew closer with every meeting.

He came out at the end of the hallway, the coffee machine just around the corner of the next room. The carpet here was plushier than his own, but a rather revolting shade of maroon. Reeve was almost glad his wasn't like this. No one would have bought this one either.

He turned the corner to the coffee machine, snagged a Styrofoam cup and filled it to the brim. It didn't matter how cheap and tasteless the stuff was, there was more caffeine than anything else in it and that was all Reeve needed. He turned to leave but was surprised when he realized he wasn't alone.

They say thinking of the Devil draws him near.

"Alright, let's get to Wall Market. We'll do some stuff there, there's a great spot in the back." Cloud brushed his hands down on his pants, but they still smelled of metal and dirt, and they prickled from how tightly he'd been holding the bars.

The redhead was standing on a ledge not far from Cloud's own, one foot dangling off the side and one foot on it. Cloud had copied the motion and both boys had been balancing on one foot while raising and lowering their bodies, switching every twenty times to keep the muscles warm. He felt like a ninja out of one of Denzel's comic books. Except they didn't flail wildly when they lost balance—too much pride.

"Sure." Cloud with the usual passive aplomb. He hopped down and eyed Reno's grin from where he was still standing, now on both feet. "Extreme tag?"

Reno didn't even wait for an answer; he took off.

The General of Shinra wasn't one for coffee, Reeve had thought, since he'd only seen the man drink tea. But then, who was he to say considering he really only saw him at meetings.

"Greetings General." Reeve raised his cup to Sephiroth, internally wincing at what he'd just said. Reeve liked to think he was a man who thought before he spoke, but the General always made him jittery, and the caffeine wasn't helping. At least Scarlet got tongue-twisted in the man's presence too, and that was a sight to see.

Sephiroth nodded his head in response, hardly phased by Reeve's words. He probably intimidated everyone into incoherency.

His outfit today was a little stricter than normal, Reeve noticed. They passed often enough, but rarely exchanged words. Still, today Sephiroth's outfit spoke more of physical work than office and Reeve envied his ability to do that. Urban Development didn't often have an excuse to leave the building and burn off some energy, not even to ostensibly check on repairs to the plate. Reeve was a rubber-stamp manager, not an engineer.

Under Sephiroth's white-collar shirt were two criss-crossing straps of leather, the harness for Masamune though where the sword was Reeve didn't know. He was just glad it wasn't here. An unarmed Sephiroth was frightening enough. He had on some tight leather pants and military boots to match with it. He'd been training because his hair was in slight disarray, but other than the outfit he didn't look sweaty or particularly tired.

Still, Sephiroth managed to look like an S&M model that'd just stepped out of a dungeon, making Reeve feel like a potbelly drunk on the street. The second that thought flashed through this mind he clamped down on it though, aware of his company. Reeve didn't really think Sephiroth could read minds, but he could be eerily accurate and there was no harm in being careful.

The General took a sip of his coffee, staring out the window absentmindedly, either not noticing or politely ignoring Reeve's scrutiny. The Head of Urban Development had never seen Sephiroth looking so relaxed, if that was even the right word for it. He was still guarded, but there wasn't the tinge of irritation that he normally saw or the blank stoicism. It made him more… arresting than usual.

"Tuesti, I've heard about beams cracking on the underside of the plate." Reeve looked up at the taller man; surprised at both the comment and that he was speaking to Reeve at all. He didn't turn away, but he inclined his head slightly in Reeve's direction. If this weren't the General, Reeve might have taken it as a snub. Sephiroth was not an unkind man, but as was well known he could be very cold. Reeve knew the President and his lackeys—just about everyone on the board—pissed the General off, so what few conversations they had had been in the wake of those emotions. Though Sephiroth never looked it, even he was susceptible to emotional moods.

What Reeve knew about him was more from the unspoken side, or from his SOLDIERs. As an executive Reeve did attend many of the major functions of the various departments, including major scientific and weaponry unveilings, major SOLDIER promotions, and other company matters. Reeve had seen firsthand at many events involving SOLDIERS how Sephiroth's men deferred to their leader. They respected his authority and aspired to fight by him, and among the tightly knit group of Firsts he was often referred to and treated like kin: godly and untouchable, but still kin. Sephiroth's leadership ability was evident in their unrestrained loyalty. A part of Reeve envied it, but he was more impressed than anything else. This was the kind of power fat, old Shinra could never wield, and it made the General practically sacrosanct.

"Tuesti?" There was a flatness in Sephiroth's expression Reeve hadn't seen directed at him before. He had an inkling it was the onset of annoyance in the General and hurried to respond.

"Erm… yes. Parts under the plate are weakening, but structural work is already beginning. Just some old beams." He hadn't realized it, but he was starting to feel warm and his words were spoken quickly. Sephiroth had the tendency to make people nervous, afraid to disappoint or anger him. Whether that was out of fear of the consequences or whether he was the kind of man people inherently liked to please, Reeve wasn't sure. Still, as he watched Sephiroth nod and turn away, his steaming cup in hand, he was inclined to think it was the latter.

Cloud put on a burst of speed as he rounded the next corner. The walled in area near the backdoor of the building wasn't too high for a jump. Two feet from the wall he launched himself up, catching hold of the top with his hands and using the balls of his feet to pull himself up. Reno was just steps ahead of him, running along the top of the wall.

While not as graceful as the redhead, Cloud was up in a flash and following. Reno jumped down, rolling as he landed, and bounced right back up to his feet to take off again. Cloud followed suit, trailing after Reno even as he half-sprinted. Endurance was just as important as speed here.

A slanted walkway for the disabled was dead ahead and Reno had already thrown himself over the railing, running along the second tier of the ramp. Seeing him going for a turn, Cloud grabbed the rail with one hand and launched himself over, then using the same momentum, slipped under the railing of a higher ledge just steps away, so he was running parallel to Reno on the ground.

They weren't even for long when Reno jumped for the top of a dumpster, clambering on to the top just as Cloud got to the bottom. Cloud had just jumped up to grab Reno's ankle with his hand when the redhead back flipped off the top, landing with a hard thump on the ground. Cloud turned fast, but not quick enough to stop the eager redhead.

The entrance to the train graveyard appeared, and Cloud and Reno ran right through, dodging small monsters and kicking up dust in their wake. Reno hopped up a couple of crates and on to a train car. Cloud cut through a split open train, making sure to keep pace. Reno jumped the spaces between cars as Cloud deviated away and around, using the extra space to increase his speed. With a push, Cloud managed to jump from the ground to the top of a train car, scrabbling with his feet to pull himself up. Reno skipped just out of reach in time.

They ran all the way through the train yard and out into a side road of Wall Market. Reno cleared a park bench in one leap, followed by Cloud close on his heels. Both boys skidded corners and jumped down steps, using handrails and low ledges for an extra boost of speed. Reno was laughing as he ran, though it was less boisterous than usual from lack of air. Cloud might have to teach Reno the circular breathing technique if they did a lot more running like this.

Cloud lept up for a high wall, and as he jumped from roof to roof he felt younger than ever. This was the closest he was going to get to anti-gravity fighting for a long time yet, so Cloud relished the weightlessness and for the duration of the game forgot about everything else.

Dear Cloud,

Happy Birthday! 17 is a big year! Congratulations! I know this will probably be a bit late, but the wolves came down closer than they have in some years and with the blizzard the mail carrier was delayed. You'd better be as careful in the desert as you are in the mountains. Even SOLDIERs aren't invincible.

I hope you have a wonderful birthday. Spend some of this money on a nice dinner with some friends. You've written often enough about the food so I hope you do something special for it.

I miss you dearly. The house is never the same with just me in it. If you get leave come visit. I've missed you so much in these months. Your letters always make me happy; so I hope this chocolate cake recipe you love will do the same. Surely they've got a kitchen you can use! Be safe and know that I'm proud of you no matter what.

Love,

Mom

"If you're not going to finish that I will." Reno's fork was pointing at the last of Cloud's burger. Cloud shrugged, and Reno decided that was enough for a yes and pulled the plate closer to him.

While normally Cloud would never have given up halfway decent food instead of Shinra's terrible grub, his appetite had whittled away. The back corner of Wall Market Reno had been talking about was in fact a place he remembered from AVALANCHE. They'd climbed up to the plate to infiltrate Shinra from this very spot. It was a dead end covered in graffiti past Don Corneo's mansion—Cloud and Reno had both moved a little quicker when they came within sight of that house. Cloud didn't know why Reno wanted to get out of there so fast, but the blond had distinct memories of his one and only cross-dressing experience, and the Don wasn't someone he wanted to see.

Looking up from where they sat on the dusty ground, Cloud could see the beams and chains they'd use to get up to the plate. That climb had been completely terrifying—not even he would have survived a fall from some of those heights. Cloud remembered how he'd swallowed the fear of being so high up because he was the leader and couldn't show it. It didn't matter how scared he'd been when Tifa slipped and he'd looked down at her to assure her and accidentally taken a heart-stopping look at the ground hundreds of dizzying feet away. The days with AVALANCHE had been wild and wonderful and sad and thrilling.

Nostalgia. He always thought it was funny that in a way he missed chasing Sephiroth, getting stabbed, getting robbed, finding out all the dirty secrets he didn't really want to know. He never thought he would miss things he hated, like going without baths for weeks, practically falling out of airships, stealing what he couldn't afford. But really, what he missed was the camaraderie, the sense of purpose, all things that had withered away after Meteor. Even after dealing with Kadaj and his group, all the good feelings were gone soon enough.

Reno was still cleaning through his lunch, but he'd also gotten up to inspect the dangling chains and graffiti on the nearby walls. Cloud, who had unwittingly brought his own mood down, reaching into his pocket for the letter he'd received that morning. It was a rare thing to get mail, and a rarer thing still that the nostalgia that normally hit him included his mother.

"What's that?" Cloud immediately tucked it away again, but knowing discouraging Reno directly would only egg the redhead on.

"A letter."

Reno snorted. "Duh." He took another bite though, and after eyeing Cloud's pocket he let him keep his secrets. The redhead wandered over and started to write over some gang's graffiti on the wall.

Cloud tentatively touched the pocket where the letter was. His mother was just as he remembered: optimistic, motherly, and warm. She still managed to inspire in him some of the kind of childhood feelings that were untainted—dreams of being great, respected, redeemed. While dimmed in memory, what sunk into Cloud more was that he held the truth in his hands of her life, proof she still breathed. She'd almost been a dream to him at times, she'd been so forgotten.

He had gone so very long without a mother, lost so many memories of the heroic woman of his childhood, that having her now made his chest tighten painfully. His closed his eyes briefly, trying to recall her as best as he could.

Her image was unclear to him, her face just a pale shape with blond hair and a soft, rounded body that he only vaguely remembered embracing as a child. Her voice he couldn't remember, though he knew she carried the scent of cooking with her, or sometimes the earth outside from her garden.

He pulled out the second sheet of the letter, the recipe written in her fine, small handwriting. Just looking at the ingredients of the cake reminded him of when he'd been too short to see the top of the counter, how he'd stood on the bathroom stool and helped stir. How the smell wafted all the way up to his room when it finished cooking, and the way he'd practically trip down the stairs as he ran down so fast when the oven's timer went off.

It had been more than a life ago for him. Planet, he even remembered how smeared the words "Happy Birthday" had been when he'd written them himself on his sixth birthday cake. He'd be a better son to his mother. He'd protect her as she had when he was a child.

"Cloud?"

Cloud jerked a bit, forgetting Reno had even been there. His dusty fingerprints were glued to the letter and he tried to rub them off before giving up. He didn't have any water to wash his hands with, and he'd finished off his drinking water since Reno had insisted on getting the hottest chili fries he knew of. Cloud folded both sheets back up then pocketed them before standing up and stretching a bit.

"One more run to the train station?"

Cloud shook out the stiff muscles and eyed the entrance to the dead end. He was closer; he could beat Reno to it if he sprinted. "Sure. Tag, you're it."

Reeve had returned to his office and didn't realize he'd left his coffee on the table downstairs until he sat back behind his desk. Damn the General. As amazing as the man was, he managed to bring out some of the worst traits in Reeve.

As soon as Reeve surveyed the damage in his office he seriously considered going back down to get his cup. More paperwork had made it into his room in his five-minute absence. He squashed the surge of irritation, and pulled the nearest files to him.

"I always thought Rude was strange." Cloud's slur was terrible, but Reno didn't seem to have a problem understanding him. When Reno and Cloud got to the train station and realized it was going to be an hour-long wait for the next one up to HQ, Reno had insisted on a drink. Cloud hadn't known he had such low alcohol tolerance until right about now.

"Man, rude is the way of the slums. Ya should know that by now," Reno said companionably, considerably less drunk than Cloud but he was certainly feeling the alcohol.

The bar was low-lit and smoky, music drifting out from hidden speakers and raucous voices rising and lowering in turn. There were some people dancing a ways away, but neither cadet felt much of an inclination to join them. Cloud seemed content to brood, and Reno just wanted more booze.

The Goblin's Bar was a busy place on Saturday night and they were not the only Shinra people there. No other cadets were there, and no one recognized them without their uniforms, but a couple of army regulars were drinking too. Reno had both elbows resting on the bar top, turned to face the room while leaning back on the counter. His face had the cheeky grin of a cocky drunk. Cloud was slumped next to him, his glass held tightly in his hand as he spoke softly to himself, or perhaps speaking to Reno. The redhead wasn't getting much of what he said. He was getting more disappointed Cloud wasn't a wild drunk by the minute. Turned out the blond was a real mope, mumbling about all sorts of random places and people.

"Y'know, I had some of these drinks once – "

"Did you get as piss-ass drunk as you are now?"

Cloud ignored what a curser Reno was when drunk. Cid cursed worse even when he was sober. "And Cid was just – "

"Cid? I am sittin'."

Cloud tried to shake his head in the negative to correct Reno's mistake, but his head started to swim funnily and the bar was beginning to tilt. Maybe they were having an earthquake. Tifa would be really mad if the glasses fell and broke.

"Marlene never liked to sit for long." What was the story he was going to tell?

"I like wild girls too Cloud. Yo, pass that over." Reno snickered as Cloud hazily pushed the glass in his direction. He didn't seem to care the redhead was cutting him off or that Reno had just downed the rest of his drink.

Cloud frowned. He couldn't remember what he wanted to say.

"Turks are bad. They've got no rules. Y'should… watch out."

"I know. Mad crazy ninjas." Reno jumped up and struck a terrible pose, one knee raised in the air, both arms up with his hands hooked. He looked like he was going to make a noise, but he fell off balance first and stumbled into Cloud. The blond socked him in the stomach before he could even balance himself and they both toppled to the floor.

"Man Cloud, go find some whore to sleep with and relax a little. There's a hot barmaid over there." Reno tried to shove him off and point at the same time but didn't realize he was pushing Cloud into the bar. The blond didn't seem to notice though. He was frowning at Reno now, his eyes unfocused from all their drinks.

"Tifa's not a whore."

"Just g'off."

Cloud fell to the side and Reno managed to sit up and reclaim his chair. Cloud warned him to watch Tsurugi before staggering off to the bathroom.

Reno turned to his own half-empty drink glass and picked it up. "Bottoms up to Tsurugi." He drained it in one gulp.

Cadet bathrooms were communal showers, toilets, and saunas, though the last part hadn't been intentional. The air never really circulated in here, and Cloud tried not to dwell on that. The fact that he'd even made it here was a miracle, especially when Reno passed out on him in the parking lot when they were sneaking back in. Carrying all that dead weight while his stomach was threatening to come back up had not been easy.

The hot water wouldn't last forever, but Cloud just couldn't make himself get out of the shower. He'd never been a fan of drinking, having seen too many people make utter fools out of themselves while under the influence. Cloud had never had much experience with getting drunk himself either—mako helped improve liver function significantly, and considering how much mako Cloud had been enhanced with, it had basically been impossible for him to get drunk for longer than a couple of minutes.

He knew the alcohol was still in his system now though, it was hard not to when the room still spun if he turned too fast, and that he'd wake up tomorrow with a blacksmith hammering in his head, but he wanted this shower now to get rid of the smell. He hoped the steam and heat would help rid the fogginess from his mind.

He stooped down to reach for the soap on the floor, backing up into the cold wall at the same time. The sudden cold on his backside made him jump forward shocked. For a second there it had felt like a hand. He groaned aloud as he realized the image in his head was stuck now, and even with all the drinks a part of him was very interested in this new direction. Cloud hadn't really had the time or the interest—cadets were mere boys and he had a lot of other things on his mind—to think about his libido. He'd been, well, busy.

Considering how hard he was already, his body had been silently protesting his abstinence. He'd never been a fan of helping himself, since it generally compounded feelings of loneliness, but Cloud didn't exactly invite people to his bed either, and what was one more sense of isolation on top of all the others?

Damn it.

He popped his head outside the shower stall, keeping his body as covered as possible as he took a quick scan around. There was no one else in the showers. He was alone, with hot water, sleeping boys a couple hallways away, and a hard on that refused to flag.

Cloud dropped the soap back on the floor and tried to let go of his worries for a second and just relax. The cadet showers weren't the place for a long, drawn-out fantasy—someone else might come in with the same idea—but release was release. And it was certainly more private at two in the morning then any other time. He reached up to tweak a nipple, the buds hardening as he tried to envision someone else doing it to him.

Just, not him…

Vincent. Yes, Vincent was a safe image. Vincent didn't have the associations of bad memories or taboo thoughts. He wasn't going to see him in the hallways or at the snack machines. Nor would he have to hear his name at every corner.

Cloud's hand drifted lower, brushing the fine hairs of his stomach down to the base of his shaft. He knew it tickled with another's hand, and his muscles twitched in response to that thought. Cloud tried not to think about how awkwardly childish he felt doing this, or how hundreds of boys had done this here before. He just wanted to focus on his hands, the way they drifted tantalizingly, teasingly along his skin, making him forget for a while more where he was.

It didn't work like that though. It never did. The alcohol wasn't helping as the fantasy got hotter, Cloud's hands groping and cupping and squeezing whatever they could reach. When he closed his eyes he could imagine smoldering ones staring down at him, desire blatant, framed by pale skin and high cheekbones. He couldn't make the eyes change to Vincent's red though, and eventually Cloud stopped trying as he pumped himself harder with his hand.

"Please," he whispered just barely then winced when he realized he'd spoken aloud. His voice was embarrassingly saturated with need, so he clamped his mouth shut and begged with his body as much as his mouth, the cage of his fist tightening just a little around his member.

The memory of the black velvet of his lover's baritone made his breath catch, as he tried to remember it as exactly as possible. He could practically feel the voice speaking against his neck, the rumble in his lean chest as he spoke the command. "Hush." Cloud tried to slow his breathing and quiet it, but he was getting so close, and each pass of his thumb along the sensitive edge of his cock was pushing his limits. This would be embarrassingly short. He'd lost all his control from the start, already given in before he'd even known it.

Cloud was backed up into the wall now, a finger probing at his deepest reach. He couldn't get deep enough, his imaginary lover toying with him. His hair would be like satin, Cloud imagined, and it, not water, would be all around him on all sides, sticking to his waist, his neck, his arms.

His fingers pinched a little too hard, like teeth biting into his nipple and the sudden pain elicited a deep, guttural moan from Cloud that he instantly silenced, remembering that low command. He was climbing and climbing a peak, almost imagining he could feel the body against him rippling with just as much need as his own. This was what he wanted, what he needed.

His free hand became trapped between the cold wall and his back as he pushed back. The sensation of being held down, no matter how fake, was so erotic he fought it, and in his own way asked for more. His imaginary lover did not disappoint. With every buck he was met with an iron wall of resistance, and it quickly became too much.

Cloud didn't cry out as he hit his peak, spots of white and silver in his vision, because the whispered name that escaped was far more damning. He could feel his member spasming as he milked himself for the last before he sagged against the wall. He wished suddenly for a phantom hand to steady him as he sat, but none was forthcoming. The imaginary lover was already gone, and as Cloud predicted, he felt lonelier than before.