#flash time

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.

“Enter Flash Time” has been one of my all-time favorites (along with “The Once and Future Flash”), all this comic-book vibe they always got going on is really impressive. 

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand,the coffee shop girl. I’m really intrigued by that conversation with Caitlyn and the last look and phrase she said. We’ll see how it’s played in the next few episodes, meanwhile, I’ll enjoy speedster Iris next week.

1997.

Stuck on a Junon trip with Genesis. The company truck roars as it sucks down 10 miles of diesel mako premium to the gallon. He’s driving and he’s got the heat cranked to maximum. “Mind if I turn it down?” I ask, reaching for the knob. “Friggin’ sauna in here--”

He swats me away. “No,” he replies. He’s got a cigarette in his mouth, and as he lights it with one hand, he cracks the window with the other, steering with his knee. I might die on the way over. The cracked window offers some relief, anyway...

I groan. The radio’s on commercial. “No offense, but why did I get paired with you on this?” I ask, my leg bouncing.

“Fuck if I know,” Genesis replies with a shrug.

“Why not Sephiroth? Haven’t been on a mission with him in a long while...”

“Golden Boy Sephiroth gets to stay on base looking pretty and pose for interviews,” he says, face a cloud of smoke. There’s some disgust there, or maybe it’s jealousy? He glances at me and shakes his head. “He’ll be miserable by the end of it, don’t worry.”

“Got it.” I fold my arms. “I could’ve handled this bit with Cloud--”

“Uh-huh,” Genesis says. “Sure you could’ve. Heard through the grapevine they mixed it up due to a ‘conflict of interest’ between the two of you.”

I squint at the road ahead. “What?” I say. “What do they mean by that? I trained him from square one!”

“Shinra’s got eyes everywhere, names beginning with T and ending with K.” Genesis taps the ash of his cigarette out the window, a vacant look of boredom on his face. “They know you and Cloud are an item.”

“Huh? Oh, for crying out loud...” I smack my head. “Dude, I’m totally professional with him! It’s fine, no big deal!”

“Totally professional? Man, you were hardly professional with Angeal, and he’s Mr. Business and Honor.”

Genesis rolls his eyes and I scowl at him, crossing my arms. Sure, I hug Cloud between shifts sometimes...and ruffle his hair...maybe sneak a kiss or two when I thought no one was looking...I twist my mouth. Maybe he’s got a point. But still!

Genesis glances at me and talks while gesturing with his cigarette. I have to lean away so he doesn’t dribble ash on me. “Look, they were nervous at first ‘cause you’re like a fuckin’ absent-minded puppy, but at least you did what you were told. Now, you kind of went rogue for a minute, and they’re suspicious. Shinra’s full of jumpy little bastards.”

“How do you know all that?” 

He smirks. “I sneak around here and there. Makes up for what I miss during meetings.” He tosses his cigarette out the window. “Anyway, Angeal wanted to take him through some more practical training and get to know him better. You can’t make 1st on squats alone.”

Jab after jab, this guy’s impossible. “Fine, I guess.” I sigh.

I stare at the road. “Do you think Cloud could make 1st?”

“Probably.” He doesn’t think too much about it. “He’s got the drive for it if he can get out of his own way. Mako will help his strength. Sure.”

“Cool.”

A blazing guitar line comes on the radio, and Genesis turns it up. I’ve heard this song before, “Layla”. It really rips. “Seph wants to do this one,” Genesis says. “Are you game for it?”

“Hell yeah, sure,” I say with a grin.

“Practice up, then. I wanna surprise him.”

He jams his hand in his pocket and pulls out his pager. He flicks through a couple times, then holds it to his lips. “Yo Ange, let’s have Layla ready for next week. Don’t tell Seph.” He tosses the pager in the cupholder between us, still grinning. “Yeah, yeah, that’ll be good...”

Earlier he seemed jealous of Sephiroth, now he wants to please him? Really don’t get this guy. “Oh yeah, another thing,” I say, “how come it’s ‘conflict of interest’ when Cloud and I go on missions, but it’s not when it’s you and Sephiroth?”

“Because it’s not,” he says. “Seph and I aren’t dating.”

“Really.” I say this as heavily and loudly as I can. I remember that weird night when I tried to get a couple of tapes, and they’re all...whispering in each other’s ears. Like...come on, man. Something’s up.

“Yeah, really,” he replies. He’s gripping the wheel a little harder now, though, and seems a little stern.

“Really!”

“Jesus Christ, if you don’t leave me alone, I’ll run us straight into the ditch.”

“Ooookay, just sayin’...” I hold my hands up. None of your business, Zack...just get through the mission...they’ll both be waiting.

(1997)

Afternoon after work. It’s November, so the sun is already setting at 4 PM. Gen wants to pick up some new records. I go with him, even though there’s so much I have to take care of.

I wander down the long rows of albums. I ought to stop by my mother’s house, to drop off the frozen turkey the company gives us every year for Thanksgiving. There’s still a mountain of paperwork to sign off on. I need to review my notes, as Lazard wants me to train a group of 2nds in stealth combat. Plus compile our findings for an end of the year report. I pick up an album at random, turning the cover over without actually looking at it. Need to do an interview for the Silver Elite fanclub so they stop filling my voicemail box. Endless, endless.

I shouldn’t even be here.

I shouldn’t waste so much time fucking around, going out like this. I have enough music at home. I need to practice guitar for the band, but should we even be doing that? I shake my head. “Hey, Gen...”

He’s not here, though. He’s in another aisle at the listening booth with headphones on. He bobs his head gently to the music, staring down at the cover. His eyes look up, hearing an interesting phrase. The corners of his mouth turn up as well.

I walk over, slowly. Observing. He’s always listening to something, whether he’s in the break room, during rehearsals, having a smoke. He gave the Walkman he lost in the swamps on duty a funeral burial (yes, he was stoned). He always seems to lose himself a bit in it.

I’m a little lost myself.

He notices me and nods. “Did you find anything?” he asks.

I hesitate. I feel foggy, for some reason.

He doesn’t notice; he’s still got his headphones on, one ear out. “No, I don’t...think so,” I say. It’s true, but it feels like a lie when I say it aloud.

He looks at me a little closer, paying attention this time. His head tilts--that half smirk is still on his face from the music. Isn’t it? “’Mm’kay,” he says, and slaps the CD jewel case against his palm. “Definitely getting this one. Real heavy.”

As he pulls the headphones off and unceremoniously drops them on the boombox, I cross my arms. “I see.”

“Wanna come over and listen?” he asks. “Heads up, you might want to be a little high.”

Whatever had come over me earlier is starting to dissipate, enough to give him a sour look. “I’d rather not. I have a lot of work to get done.”

He sighs a little. “All right, fine. Suit yourself.”

He turns his back to me, drumming his fingers on the CD case. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t come over,” I say. “I am not getting stoned, though.”

Gen turns in profile. “Man, you’re no fun,” he replies. He’s smiling, though.

I follow him to the register. It will be another night wasted, sure. But, there’s a little voice in the back of my head that sounds like Mother’s. “If you enjoyed yourself, it wasn’t time wasted.”

I watch him pay. Perhaps not.

Mother always cooks too much for Thanksgiving. There are five of us, sure, but there are always so many leftovers, even when Loz and Kadaj eat for two. My first Thanksgiving here astounded me, and I ate so much I could barely move…but now, it is no longer the case. Gingerly, I pick at the leftover turkey and put the meat away into plastic containers.

“Kadaj!” Yaz yells. “Mom, he’s throwing rolls at me!”

Mother sighs from the sink. “If you don’t want to do dishes, then clear the table! Please!”

I glance over my shoulder to see him ready another dinner roll at poor Yazoo, who has their hands full with plates. It is a clear “if you make another movement, I will kill you” look, and he lowers his arm, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. I look back at Jenova--she looks tired. Apparently he failed two classes this past semester, and if he’s not careful, he might not graduate. With Yazoo out of the house now, he’s the only one left here, but still causing trouble…

Still, she looks at me with grateful eyes. “Thank you, Sephiroth,” she says. “It’s so good to have you home every so often.”

I lean over and kiss the top of her head. “Of course,” I reply. Most of the turkey has been packed away, and I pause. “Ah, Mother, do you mind if I take some of this home with me?”

“Oh, goodness, no,” she laughs, waving a soapy hand at me. “Take as much as you’d like, there’s more than enough for us here.”

I nod, then reach into the cupboard and take out another container. All I need is another plate’s worth. “Kadaj, are you gonna do anything?” Yaz says.

“Nope.” I hear his chair creak and slam down as he gets up. “I’m gonna play my Playstation.”

“You’re gonna help clean up,” Loz says.

“Am not! H-hey!”

I hear the clear, distinct sound of Kadaj being put in a chokehold, and smile to myself. I often get exasperated at my family, but…occasions like this are all right. Small doses are fine.

I have one more stop to make tonight.

I knock on his door. “What?” he replies.

“It’s me,” I say.

There’s no reply, so I let myself in. He’s got a CD on--it’s not Loveless, but it’s something similar. Gen is not immediately present. “I brought you dinner,” I say.

“I already ate,” he grunts. It’s coming from the bathroom.

I sit down on the couch with my Tupperware in hand and examine the coffee table. A plastic tray sits with a fork in it, traces of grainy potatoes and frozen turkey stuck to the sides. A half empty glass of wine sits beside it, and beside that, an open photo album. It’s that photo album, covered with pictures from his childhood, with handwritten notes from Angeal.

The toilet flushes, and he stumbles out. He’s barely tipsy at best, which is surprising for all of this. “This doesn’t count,” I say, picking up the TV dinner tray. “I brought this over from Mother’s.”

“Christ, ‘course you did,” he grumbles, running a hand through his hair before sitting beside me. “I don’t need it.”

“Mmhm.” Sure you don’t. I can smoke enough cigarettes to not feel hungry either, but that doesn’t mean it’s good for you. At any rate, it means he’s not high, otherwise he would’ve tipped the Tupperware straight into his open mouth, no questions asked.

He leans against my shoulder, staring down at the photo album. “I had to spend Christmas with my folks growing up,” he mutters. “But I always went to Angeal’s for Thanksgiving, ever since I knew him. After his mom died, we still spent it together. He would always cook.”

“Turkey and everything?”

“Uh-huh.” He sniffles and shakes his head. “I’d get loaded beforehand, so I wasn’t a lot of help. He got smart after a while--few years ago, he locked me out when he knew I was baked. I remember feeling like I was gonna die, I was so hungry--I never used to eat that day, y’know?” He smirks, lips curling on the side closes to me. “So…yeah. No weed on Thanksgiving.”

It’s quiet between us for a moment. This is his first Thanksgiving without him around. He’s nostalgic, obviously…but he’s not a sobbing, wasted mess like I’ve seen him. He’s definitely been worse. Tonight, he’s all right.

Angeal would be proud.

As I think this, Gen looks right at me and grins. “Didn’t say anything about the day after,” he says with a grin, and grabs the Tupperware out of my hand. “This is gonna be great tomorrow, thanks, dude.”

I scowl at him as he gets up and walks to the kitchen. “So you can get high tomorrow?”

“Leftover turkey is the best munchie food.”

“I thought that would be too elaborate for you.”

“Dude, just eat it cold. It’s all the same.”

“The fixings as well?”

“Yup.”

“You’re disgusting.”

He cackles as he slams the refrigerator door. For a moment, I had some feelings of good-will toward him, kindness, perhaps even affection. I had even considered staying the night, maybe even sucking his dick.

But as he looks back at me from the door way of the kitchen, with that lazy, shitty grin on his face…I think I won’t.

(orig: future gay whatever) (5/3/17)

We come back from work together. “My place or yours?” I ask.

He sniffs me for a moment. “Mine.”

So he doesn’t want to smoke, and the last hit I had was at lunch, so I’m presentable for his pristine, weed-free apartment. I’m sure if he paid rent on his place, maybe he’d push to consolidate a little harder, but…I bought them both. Because I’m just so…

So…

I follow behind him into his place, as he unlocks the door. The smell of shampoo isn’t as pungent as it was this morning, but it’s still there, just fragrant enough. He sighs as we go in, flipping his hair back. “Well, what are we doing for dinner?” he asks. He wanders into the kitchen, but he still has his jacket on.

“Dunno,” I say.

He walks out looking disappointed. “I don’t want to cook.”

“Neither do I.”

“When do you ever cook?”

“Sometimes.” That’s a lie. I don’t really ever cook. At all. Unless it has weed in it. He knows this. That sneer he’s giving me tells it all. I grin, and he rolls his eyes.

“Well,” he says, now letting his jacket slide off his shoulders. “We could go out.”

I help him with this, standing behind him and stroking his arms as his jacket drops to the floor. “Or, we could order in,” I say.

He leans his head back, eyes half open. Interesting. “Gen, we need to figure this out before it gets too late,” he mutters. “I’m not joining you in shoving Cheetos in your mouth at midnight when you want to get high later…”

“Okay,” I say. I stand on my toes to perch my head on his shoulder, breathing on his neck. “So…what do you want to do?”

Following Seph’s rules can be a pain. But the fact that he always wants to do things his way makes for amusing situations like these. He’s leaning into me, and his breathing has shifted. Are you in the mood? What do you want more? “I…we should…” he tries to say.

I kiss his neck and run my hands along his sides behind him, down to his hips. “We should what?” I murmur. “What do you wanna do…”

“Nn-nn…” He’s getting into it. Nice. Makes me wish I had a buzz going to accompany this, but…I’ll make do. I press behind him harder, grinding against his ass…fuck, now I’m getting a hard-on, too…

“Doesn’t matter either way,” I purr into his neck, as his breathing continues to pick up. “Whether you stay and fuck or we go out…it’s a win-win for me~.”

Suddenly, he whirls around and jabs me in the stomach, knocking me backwards. “Christ!” he huffs. “You’re a real bastard, you know that?”

I wheeze as I catch my breath. “What?!” I exclaim. I glance down at his crotch--he’s starting to show. “What’s wrong with a little sex before dinner--”

“It’s going to get late! Asshole!” There’s a flush in his cheeks as he grabs his jacket off the ground. “Come on, get moving! We’re going back out!”

I hide my snicker as he grabs my wrist to drag me back out the door. Even though my stomach is still aching from that punch, his irritation is always fun to watch. There’s a bunch of different ways to get him to squirm, and they’re all fun.

So, like I said, a win-win.