okay i HAD to do something for @sephesisweek--i wasn't able to participate for the whole thing, but i got this prompt out for devotion. taking a chance on exposing this side of fandom to my little AU that has gripped me for the past 7 years. pseudo modern 90s AU/band AU with some details changed. enjoy! -@supershadsy
flash time 114
(1997.)
"You really make me work, you know that?" he says, nearly chewing on his cigarette. He didn't even bother changing out of his uniform--just threw on his company jacket and dragged me out of the Shinra building. "Covering your stupid ass."
I grin. "You know how it is with ol' Tseng. He needs a little kick every once in a while. Need to wiggle the stick in his ass a little."
"But smoking in his office while you're supposed to be training 2nds?"
"They were fine. I had them doing squats. Angeal's 2nd loves doing that shit."
His eyes are like daggers, and it makes my adrenaline soar. Mako soaked and full of electricity. I love it when he's pissed off. Especially when I'm the culprit. "I don't think that counts," he grumbles through his teeth.
I wave my hand. "It's fine. We go way back. You saw, just a slap on the wrist and we're free to go."
"Didn't he try to kill you once?"
"Oh, sure. That's what Turks are for."
He pinches the bridge between his nose, fully exasperated, then shakes his head. "I think if you took your job more seriously, Tseng would want to kill you less."
I waggle my finger. "He should be happy that I haven't hot-boxed the executive suite. Or lit it on fire." One day, maybe. "Anyway, are you coming over tonight?"
He has to think about this. This usually happens when he cleans up my messes--he gets to reevaluate why he hangs out with me the most, and not any of the suits or goodie-goodies up in HQ. He could have anything he wants, and I mean anything--he's the darling, the strongest SOLDIER anyone's ever seen. If I didn't know any better, it's like they made him in a lab to wear the uniform and wield that stupid long katana.
And yet, he is wearing the earring I gave him. The black feather. And I'm wearing its pair.
"Gen?" he says.
I haven't been paying attention. "Huh?"
"I said yes. I'll come over."
He stops walking to look at me and take the cigarette out of his mouth. The air has a chill in it, enough to see your breath, and the steam mingles with the smoke. The sounds of the city rush in my ears, but I don't perceive anyone around us. It's just me and him on the sidewalk.
"Sounds good," I reply. My ears feel like they're on fire.
He points with his cigarette between his fingers at me. "But, don't do that shit again. Please."
"Sure, I'll try." No promises. I look at him, then the cigarette, and then take it from his fingers. He opens his mouth, as if to protest, but he doesn't.
I take a drag. I don't take my eyes off his.
He watches my lips as I blow the smoke off to the side. I feel intoxicated by the attention. That's right, look at me...
...devotee.
I smirk as I hand the cigarette back to him. He snatches it back and immediately puts it back in his mouth. Interesting.
We're silent as we complete the walk back to our building. This feeling will melt away when we're at my place, in the warmth of my apartment, and I put a record on. But, I'll savor this.
(G.)











