Think About Me

He hisses and tenses up. "I'm...hnnn...I'm close," he manages.

I adjust myself so I'm not just laying on him and suck his dick harder. My mouth gets tighter, and I force myself to salivate more, drool and spit covering his cock. The angel on my shoulder says this looks disgusting, and sounds disgusting too. The devil in my cock says this is exactly what was ordered, and keep going, you gay fucker. He ain't gonna cum by himself.

He pulls my hair so hard I'm afraid he's going to rip it all out, tears coming from my eyes, but then I taste it. He's pent up, because the load he shoots into my mouth is hot, thick, and it lasts for fucking ever. When I pull myself off his cock, some of it drips down my chin. I sit up, lick my lips, and arch my back. "Mmm..."

Seph squints at me, or some approximation of me. He's high as fuck too, so I'd be surprised if he can see anything at all. "You like that?" he mumbles.

"Mmhm," I say, "SOLDIER cum tastes the best. It's got a fuckin'...it's got a sweetness to it."

"You're disgusting," he replies.

Something about the way he says this--the growl in his voice? The little smirk?--makes me rock hard, and I crawl up on him, releasing my dick from my pants and shoving it in his face. "Yeah? What about you?" I taunt, my head tingling pleasantly. "Don't knock it 'til you try it."

It's intoxicating to watch him go cross-eyed at my cock. He looks at it, then back at me, and slowly opens his mouth. I prod it open the rest of the way and shove myself in him, bottoming out immediately. I sigh and moan at the ceiling. Christ, his mouth is so hot. One of his many, many, many talents is that he has no gag reflex. Or, if he does, he controls it surprisingly well, so I can just fuck his face properly.

He's gotten better at it over the years. Now he knows how to work the tongue on the underside...how to make it nice and wet...how to grab my ass and grip my back, even stoned as all get out...

Ah...

I lean my head back and relax. I could die here.

I cum easy.

He lets go of me and I nearly fall over, and I see he has a grimace on his face. It's cute. It's not the horny fucking lust for cock that I fantasize him having when I jack off, but you know, it'll do. "I don't think it's 'sweet' at all," he grunts, coughing a bit. "It's bitter and metallic."

"That's because you don't have any other dick to compare it to," I say. "Cum's normally bitter, sure, but the mako makes it sweet. Like licking a factory conveyor belt making the cheapest candy sweet."

"That...doesn't sound a lot better."

"Dude, you have got to work with me." I collapse on top of him and nuzzle against his chest. God, he's warm.

"No," he says. His voice rumbles in my ear and reverberates through my whole body. "You're just a horny stoner."

When I look up at him, he's smiling at me. Not a lot, just enough to notice. "And you're a stick in the ass," I reply in turn.

He shakes his head and leans it back while sinking further into my beanbag chair, then sloppily flattens my bangs over my face. "Shut up," he grumbles. "Let me just..."

He trails off. A wave just hit him, and I'm also content to float here on his chest in the afterglow.

The bald one with sunglasses on is Rude. I've seen him around. He's standing in the corner looking at his watch. Then, there's Cissnei having coffee and a muffin at the table. Zack always says hi to her whenever he sees her. The blonde girl with the ponytail I've never seen, nor the guy with dark hair and glasses.

I hear footsteps down the hall. I quickly slip out of sight. Why am I doing this? I should be getting back to my station, but...

"'Sup, bitch," I hear someone say. It's a woman's voice with a gritty tone. It must be the blonde girl.

"Huh? Are you talking to me?" I recognize that voice, though. It's Reno, the red haired guy who always wears his shirt half unbuttoned.

The woman clicks her tongue. "Note to self, Reno responds to 'bitch' as predicted."

"Watch it, you're barely out of training," Reno says. "Tseng will have your ass...hey! Hey what's that look for?!"

A different voice giggles. "Sorry, I don't think Tseng will back you up on that." It's Cissnei. "He's got bigger fish to fry."

"'Sides, when did you become a rat? Little teacher's pet?" the other woman chides. "Hey, I can get you some concealer for those hickeys. Wall Market last night?"

"Dude! Come on!"

I take my chances and peer back around the corner through the window. Rude has popped his collar up, and the blonde woman has kicked back in her chair with a wry, cocky grin. "Hey man, no shame. I can help you touch up your roots while we're at it."

"Shotgun!" Reno hisses.

She puts her hands up. "I'm a bottle blonde, I'll admit it. I'll fix you right up."

Reno's fists are shaking, but Rude looks up. "Reno," he says.

This makes him back down, but only a little. "How the fuck do you know so much?" he snarls.

The other guy at the table, the one with the glasses, looks up from his magazine. "Really?" he remarks.

"Are you stupid? That's our thing," Shotgun says, leaning forward. "We gotta know stuff. What better place to start than in our own circle?"

"You don't have to stalk me!" Reno exclaims. "All right, what else do you know? Not about me, either! How about, uh..."

Cissnei perks in the middle of a bite of her muffin. "How about SOLIDER?" she says, then swallows. "It's easy to start with, especially if you shadow Tseng. He's eyes for their Director."

"Okay, okay." Shotgun tilts her head. "So 1st-class Fair--"

My heart jumps. I can't leave now. The small town gossip instinct roots me in place.

Reno cuts her off. "That's too easy, dude just got busted for crushing Hojo's nose."

"Okay, fine!" she huffs. "1st-class Hewley tends the community garden down in Sector 4. He's there about 3 times a week in the spring and summer. He also sits in for a jazz trio that plays above the plate."

"What instrument does he play?" Rude quizzes.

"Drums."

"Nice work."

Reno paces around her. "Okay, who else? There are more SOLDIER than that--more 1sts, even. That's still easy picking though, they're like celebrities in their own right--"

"1st-class Rhapsodos stashes his weed in Tseng's locker."

"Too easy," Reno says, albeit with a snort. "He complains about that pretty loudly when it happens."

Shotgun rolls her fingers on the table. "Okay...he's...in a gay relationship with 1st-class Cetra?"

Everyone seems to clear their throat at the same time. The guy reading a magazine pushes up his glasses and taps the side of his nose. "Don't be hasty," he mutters.

"Huh? What do you mean, they're not dating? I saw them...they're always fucking leaving together, and looking at each other with those huge goo goo mako eyes. Hell, I caught them coming out of the 1sts training room and Rhapsodos was still buttoning up his pants!"

"Just because they're fucking, doesn't mean they're together," Reno says.

"What?!"

"Don't," Cissnei says with a wave of her hand. "It's not worth it."

Shotgun rolls her eyes. "Well, if you know all that, then you probably know that he's adopted, too."

"Yup," Reno says. "He was 15 when Jenova Cetra swept him up with her three other kids. They're still down in Sector 2."

"No," Shotgun corrects, "I'm talking about Rhapsodos."

All the Turks stop to stare at her.

"What?" Cissnei asks. "Really?"

She appears to have stumped them, and she knows it, leaning back in her seat. "Oooh!" she says. "Gotcha!"

"Fuckin' Banora apple juice poster boy is adopted? Fuck!" Reno shakes his head. "How the hell...and he still got all that money for it? Lucky bastard..."

"That's enough," Tseng says appearing in the doorway, and everyone jerks back, startled, including me. "You were so busy gabbing that you didn't notice a 2nd was eavesdropping."

Uh-oh. I stumble backwards, and hustle around the corner. My heart pounds as I find the emergency stairway and race down it, ignoring the blue in the corners of my vision. Hopefully Zack can give me a pass so I don't get reprimanded...

(C.)

epilogue:

"Apologies, sir," Cissnei said, standing up and dusting off her lap. "We were waiting for you to arrive..."

Tseng shook his head and set his attention to Shotgun instead. "Rhapsodos isn't privy to that, so keep it to yourself," he advised. "They're his foster parents. He gets a cut of inheritance because of the little bit of acting he did as a child."

"A cut?!" Reno exclaimed. "You're telling me he's rolling in cash and that's only a cut?!"

Tseng glanced over to Reno with a side eye and wrinkled his nose. "Yes. You should really limit your...less savory life choices to your weekends."

"What about Strife?" Rude asked. "The eavesdropper."

"I'll speak with him later," he replied, then narrowed his eyes at everyone. "You all have your assignments. Shotgun is with me today. Dismissed."

As the room disbursed, Reno hung back with Rude. "You knew there was someone listening?" he asked.

"Yeah," he said with a sigh. "I'm on SOLDIER training duty. Hopefully Tseng will understand that's punishment enough."

Reno snorted. "Or front desk."

epilogue:

(1997.)

He’s eating today, so that’s good. Zack is still out of the loop, but Genesis is over every evening. I feel like I need to keep an eye on him for Zack’s sake...in exchange for keeping him in the dark.

“Hey, you know something,” Angeal says suddenly, his voice croaking. He clears his throat before he continues. “I just remembered...you and I had a run in before, a few years ago, before you and Zack got together.”

I blink. “Huh?”

“You were here at the church, and I was...” He smiles and shakes his head. “I was getting some shit off my chest about Gen. My mom had died, so I didn’t have anyone else to talk to about it. So I came here. And there you were.”

I roll through my memory. Here at the church...so it would’ve had to have been after Mom disappeared, after I was on the street...I snap my fingers. “Oh! Oh yeah! Mister SOLDIER!”

His smile is warm. “Thanks for that, by the way. Your little idea was pretty brilliant. It brought us together.”

“God, I barely remember that. I was going through a lot myself,” I reply. It was after I started living at the church, and only just getting used to three meals a day again.

“We all were,” he says. “Everyone is, all the time.”

His smile fades, and mine does too. Strange how these things work out.

Ten minutes ago, he was fucking me like that in an old company shirt, cut off like a croptop. The crease in his brow from concentration, the glow in his eyes as he pushed

into

me

over

and over.

“Mmm.” I shudder.

I can just see his gaze flick over to me. “What?”

“Nothin’,” I reply with a smirk. “You’re hot.”

He makes a noise that would have probably been taken like a snort, but he barely moves. “I know,” he says.

I pace around. I’m starting to get hungry. On the couch, Seph and I share a brainwave and his hand falls on his stomach. “I’m hungry,” he voices.

I’m going to tease him. “You mean you didn’t eat before you came over?” I say. I strut over and cross my arms, shaking my head. “Rookie mistake.”

The room spins a bit, but I stay on my feet. When I open my eyes, he’s got that “fuck you” look on his face that I relish. He’s too lost in it to make any moves, but I can imagine him giving me the bird.

I bend over and grab the bowl from beside my storage chest and sacred beanbag throne. If I focus, I can get the bag of weed too. “Tell you what,” I say. “Smoke this with me, and we’ll get delivery.”

“Gen,” he groans. “Why...”

“I don’t have any fuckin’ food here, you know that.” I pack the bowl clumsily, but well. This isn’t my first time around. “So, what do you want?”

He stares up at the ceiling. “Anything...at this point.”

“Pizza?”

“Not pizza.”

“That’s not anything, then.”

“Pedantic son of a bitch.”

I grin. I light the bowl and take the first hit, smoke clouding my face. “How about Mexican? I know a good spot.”

“They...deliver?”

“No.” I pass him the bowl. He stares at me, then begrudgingly takes it. “But I can bribe a Turk who will.”

Seph cocks his head. “Huh?”

“Smoke.” I wave my hand at him and stumble back toward the kitchen. “I got this.”

My phone sits on the edge of the counter, and I pick up the whole thing and lean against the door frame. I cradle the receiver on my shoulder and dial. I’ve got a sticky note taped to it with numbers I need to remember. Angeal, Sephiroth, HQ, Gillian (scratched out, now defunct), Seph’s mom...and one last number, the one I’m dialing.

Ring, ring.

He picks up pretty readily. “Y’ello?” he answers.

“Yo, Reno,” I say. “Alone on a Friday night?”

“Dude, c’mon,” he whines. “I got stood up last week, I’m taking it easy.”

I was half expecting him to say he was dying his hair this week. I’ve seen him more than once in Wall Market trying to pick up women of the night. If he’s down there, there’s no way that he’s straight. Not sure if he knows it or not.

“Cool, then you can do me a favor,” I say.

“I ain’t doing shit for you.”

“I’ll pay you $200 to go over to The Taqueria and get me two take out bags full of whatever they’ve got.”

“Jesus Christ...” He’s thinking about it, though. His voice drops to a murmur. “...only if you throw me a joint.”

“Get your own fuckin’ dealer!” The thought of melted cheese over ground beef and spices is making me salivate though. “Fine, I’ll roll you something.”

“Done. I’m coming over now.”

“No, no, no, you get paid when you have the goods.”

“And make me pay for it? Fuck off.”

Shit, forgot about that. “Right. Fine, come over.”

He hangs up on me. I kick our strewn clothes over behind the couch, out of sight of the door. I toss Seph a shirt. “Put something on, our delivery boy’s coming over.”

He took another hit while I wasn’t looking, so he’s in very slow motion. I don’t know if he was even listening. I grab my jeans and yank them on, just as he starts knocking on my door.

“One sec,” I say. “Did you run over?”

“Dude, I’m just down the hall.”

My wallet’s still in there, and I dig it out and position myself in the doorway so I can hide Seph. He will not want to be reminded of this on Monday.

I open the door. It should be a week where he does his hair, his roots are showing. He grins. “Yo,” he says, then coughs. “Man, you really...know how to party, huh?”

I roll my eyes and shove some bills in his hand. “Get some of everything, that should be enough,” I say. “If you’re quick, you can keep the change.”

“Sure. Sector 3 right?”

“Yup.”

He attempts to peer around me. “Oh, hey--”

I block his view. I don’t want to imagine Seph’s fury if Reno saw his ass out in my apartment. “Don’t even think about it,” I say.

“Ooookay, later!”

I slam the door in his face as he leaves. As I spin and lean against it, Seph does have a shirt on, but as predicted, his dick is out. His eyes are sewed shut and head back toward the ceiling.

“Fuck...” he whispers.

Yeah, he’s not on this planet.

“Food’ll be here soon,” I say.

“Mmmm....”

I stare at his now flaccid dick. Wonder if he’s ready to get it up again...

The stack was thick. There were initial lines on every page. I’m going to be here all morning, Sephiroth thought with disdain.

“I suggest you read through everything, but I can give you a verbal summary.”

Sephiroth’s eyes flicked up to meet Lazard’s own, blue shielded behind glasses. “Please,” he said.

Lazard cleared his throat and folded his hands together on his desk.

“As a 1st-class SOLDIER, you will be tasked with leading initiatives and training subordinates. Tseng will act as your direct report to deliver orders directly from me. While you will have freedom within the company and will not be restricted in most of your activities, you will become property of Shinra.”

Sephiroth’s eyebrows narrowed.

“You will live where we tell you to and be stationed where we tell you to be. You may conduct your personal life as you wish, but bear in mind that when you are in uniform, you are representing Shinra. You may be called upon at any time to go on patrol or to serve.

“While most who make it this far intend to stay with the company, 1st-class in particular is a lifetime sentence. Given the mako composition already administered to you, you will be granted good health and a longer life, which you are indebted to by the company. You can choose to ‘retire’ as early as 65 years of age, however if Shinra requests your abilities, you can not refuse.”

Sephiroth sighed as a result of holding his breath. “So, there is no way to be discharged?”

Lazard shook his head. “Even a lateral move will not absolve you of this responsibility...especially one of your ability.” He took off his glasses, which revealed a shimmer in his eyes that Sephiroth had not noticed before. “Before this, I was also 1st-class SOLDIER, many moons ago now. If they wanted to, they could ask me to don the black and suspenders and go out on the field.”

“Have they?” Sephiroth asked, blinking.

“No,” Lazard chuckled. “I have done my best to keep that from happening in my position. However, if Mr. President so wished, he could make the demand. I would give him an earful, but I could not refuse.”

His voice dripped with contempt as he spoke the words “Mr. President”. It was a tone Sephiroth didn’t think was possible from him,  and he briefly shared a look with Tseng, still at the office door. Tseng pursed his lips, but said nothing.

“There are some other Shinra positions that carry similar caveats,” Lazard continued, “particularly those who possess company trade secrets. However, SOLDIER is special, because of your genetic modification and physical ability, combined with some level of inner company workings.

“Therefore, you will never be discharged. If a situation would warrant a ‘dishonorable’ discharge...you will be terminated. Your status will be ‘killed in action.’“

Sephiroth stared down at the contract, words no longer legible but distorted squiggles crawling on the paper. Is this why Jenova tried to dissuade me from joining SOLDIER? Because it is an irreversible, eventual death sentence?

(”...monster...just like the rest of us...”)

Genesis’s eyes flashed in his mind again. He knew the truth as well.

“I always start with this up front, because it is important.” Lazard sighed. “Many SOLDIER in 2nd and 3rd-class often get the wrong idea about the glamour of 1st-class. It can be a lonely job, and comes with a heavy price.”

Lazard’s face relaxed. “This all being said, I have been watching you come up, and I have no qualms regarding your sense of duty and responsibility. Unless you have a dramatic change of heart, I don’t think you will be getting into any trouble, as it were.”

Sephiroth smirked humorlessly. “I appreciate the compliment,” he said. “But it doesn’t matter, does it?” He bit his lip and shrugged. “I already accepted the promotion.”

Lazard said nothing, but his eyes confirmed it. This paperwork is a formality. I suppose if I really wanted out, I could refuse and be demoted. But, with the press conference already over, it would mean a scandal. Which may mean termination.

Of me.

At the same time...was there any other path for me?

To stand at the top, alone...

“If you turn to page 32, you will see your new yearly salary,” Lazard continued, gentler than before as he placed his glasses back on his face. “Given the circumstances you yourself addressed, you are in a unique position to negotiate for a higher salary if you so choose.”

The page had been tabbed with a yellow sticky note for easy access. Sephiroth turned to it and stared at the large number staring back at him. “In fact, I may preemptively bump it, provided the budget is available. Or a signing bonus could be in order?”

“This is...this is fine,” Sephiroth replied. With this money, I could buy Mother a new house out of the Sector 2 slums in a couple of years...!

“Well, I’ll still see what I can do,” Lazard replied. “Your benefits are completely covered by Shinra at no cost to you. You also have special access to Shinra owned condominium buildings, including the newest one near Sector 5. Angeal and Genesis own condos there, for example.”

That’s a luxury building, Sephiroth thought, still staring down at the compensation number on the sheet. I never gave much thought to where I would be living; I assumed I would continue to stay on base, or just go and live with Mother to help with the kids...

“The condos can be bought at half of market rate, either outright or through an interest-free payment plan, your choice. I will forward you our real estate agent’s contact information before the end of the day.

“You also are now allowed to carry your own weapon, and not a Shinra issued one. If you are interested in a sword, we have a blacksmith who is on site part of the week that can craft you a blade. Otherwise, there are a few options in Midgar if your tastes lie elsewhere.”

A new sword, Sephiroth thought, that will be a relief. He thought of Angeal’s heavy Buster Sword, and Genesis’s slender and elaborate Rapier. Though I am not sure what style to get. Perhaps something light and simple...

Lazard continued. “I would like you to take some time in the coming weeks shadowing your fellow 1sts in their duties. You can get a feel for where their strengths lie and what you would prefer to do while on base. You will be stationed here in Midgar for the foreseeable future.”

“I see,” he said.

Lazard smiled quizzically. “I thought you may be more enthusiastic about that. Keeping you with your colleagues, and close to family as well.”

“A-ah, I am...” Sephiroth said. Typically, his emotions often didn’t come across well, but with his heart heavy under circumstance, he could only muster a thin lipped turn of his mouth. “Thank you.”

“Eventually, I would like to see you be a de facto leader among the 1sts, hence the free reign you’ll be given here. It will be a different story once you are deployed.” He stared in space behind Sephiroth. “We will not be at war forever, after all. That is my hope...”

“How soon will that be?” Sephiroth asked.

It was the first time Lazard looked taken aback. But, even that was controlled. “Come again?”

“How long...until we are deployed again?”

Lazard’s expression neutralized. “Right. Unfortunately, I can’t say for sure. Within the year, I assume. Maybe as soon as a month. Could be tomorrow, though unlikely. Your performance should keep things at bay for a while.”

Sephiroth’s eyes flicked down to the mound of paperwork. He watched himself aimlessly flip back to the beginning. This is how it will be, now. This is the point I wanted to make it to. Now that I’m here, I don’t know how to feel...

I always wanted to be at the top, to be the best,

(to be the most useful)

(you’re different than all the others)

and even...to be admired.

(”You’re such a freak!” the boy spit at him. He punched him and grabbed him by his hair, shoving him against the lockers. “This isn’t a wig? Your hair is like this, silver like a fucking old man? Gross!”

Sephiroth’s nostrils flared, and he grabbed the boy by the waist, easily hurling him backward...)

I never got it growing up, not where it mattered. Fifteen years rotting away in an orphanage, then three in the slums.

But now...

(As he walked by the reception desk, a group of Shinra administrative professionals in crisp, white blouses and black pencil skirts all turned their heads. “E-Excuse me!” one piped up.

Sephiroth paused and looked back. He wasn’t even in uniform yet--only his black, company jacket, a t-shirt and jeans--but each of the women were tinted with pink. “Yes?” he asked.

“You’re, um, you’re Sephiroth Cetra, right? 1st-class, sir?”

“That’s right,”

“Wow!” she exclaimed, then quickly looked away. “Um, sorry! I just wanted...your hair is beautiful, by the way!”

She scurried back, clearly embarrassed. Sephiroth lifted his chin. “Thank you...”)

“Do you have any questions for me?” asked Lazard. “I know it’s a lot to take in.”

Sephiroth didn’t hear him, mind far away. Now...

(Genesis clapped as Sephiroth destroyed the last target dummy. “Well done, well done,” he said, taking a drag off a cigarette. It looked like one, but the smell said otherwise. “Damn, you’re good.”

“Do you think so?” Sephiroth asked.

“Oh, yeah. You’ll be 1st in no time. It’s like Shinra pumped you out of the fuckin’ lab as the model SOLDIER.” Genesis coughed a little smoke and laughed at his own quip.

Gently out of breath, Sephiroth sheathed his sword and met his eyes. Genesis, in turn, held his gaze.

When he looked away, it felt like he had lingered too long...)

“Sephiroth?”

Things...are different. I have...friends now, maybe. But after what happened with Genesis...

(”You’re so...fucking perfect...”)

(”He doesn’t hate you, you know.”)

I hope Angeal is right. I hope Mother is right, too.

Sephiroth cleared his throat, willing himself back into the Director’s office. “Sorry?” he said. “No, I’m...fine. It’s fine.”

Lazard waited for more, but Sephiroth had no more to say. He took the pen laid carefully beside the contract and began to initial each page. Words flashed at him that did not process.

He reached the last page, and Lazard interrupted him. “This is your last chance,” he warned. “Once you sign that last page, you can’t go back.”

Was there any other choice? Sephiroth thought, but kept it to himself.

His hand did pause over the line,

but only for a moment.

In spiked script, he signed Sephiroth Cetra, and dated beside it.

“Very well,” Lazard said. He stood up and reached over to gather the paperwork. “You are officially 1st-class SOLDIER. Congratulations.”

Formality seemed to settle in the office. Sephiroth stood as well. “Thank you, Director.”

“I hope your career is as fruitful as its start.” Lazard stacked the paperwork, then stepped around and shook Sephiroth’s hand. “Barring the most unusual circumstance, we may not cross paths again like this.”

Lazard pulled him gently closer and stared sternly up at him. “I wish you the best of luck.”

Sephiroth stared back. He said he was 1st-class once as well...he knows how this is more than anyone.

(what sword did he use? How much blood has he seen? How many has he killed?)

“Thank you, sir,” Sephiroth said.

Lazard smiled. “You’re dismissed. Tseng will walk you out.”

Sephiroth let go of his hand, and turned to the back of the room. Tseng opened the director’s door, but resumed to a stance with his hands behind his back. As soon as Sephiroth walked through, he trailed behind.

“I will take you back to the 1st’s locker and break room,” Tseng said. “If you have any questions about the Director, I am afraid most of his personal information is classified.”

“I don’t have any questions,” Sephiroth replied, staring straight ahead. “I know all I need to.”

Tseng tilted his head as he called the elevator. “Very well.”

After three grueling months in Wutai, cut down from what was supposed to be six, he was suddenly heralded as a war hero. In hindsight, it was a foolish stunt, really, and he ought to have been killed for it. Investigating an ambush, all by himself? Though even when he tried to think back to the details, his vision blurred, and he felt sick to his stomach.

Pools, pools of blood.

Lazard touched his shoulder, and he started. "Are you all right?" he asked.

Sephiroth nodded. He was behind the curtain in the press room, in a crisp, freshly washed 1st-class uniform, with his hair neat and straight as a board. The press wanted, no, needed to hear from him. Hero at 19, fastest to climb SOLDIER, destroyed an army with just his sword, turned the entire tide of the war from a stalemate to a landslide. This was the fame and recognition he wanted, wasn't it? Even now, all he could think of was his mother at home, turning the channels on the TV to catch his interview.

"Sephiroth," Lazard said again.

"Hm?" He looked at him directly, which he guessed was what he wanted. Lazard was in a navy suit and tie, glasses polished, and blond hair carefully coiffed.

"Everything's written out for you on the teleprompter," he said, his voice mellow and soothing. "You just read what it says. Press is going to be front row, there are going to be a lot of lights, just ignore them. Shinra wants you to smile and wave, but you don't have to--they can come to me if they have any objections."

"Right," Sephiroth mumbled.

Lazard sighed, looking out to the crowd from their still hidden sanctuary. "Something tells me this is more than what you bargained for," he commented. "You look like you want to get this over with."

Sephiroth cocked his head, eyes glazed. "I'm...not sure," he replied. "It's a lot of noise."

He chuckled. "You're damn right it is," he said. "Just get through your speech. Press has to wait until you're done to ask questions, and I can take most of them if you feel uncomfortable. Like I said before: you're here to be a face. Nothing more. Not if you don't want to be."

Sephiroth himself wasn't too sure on that last part yet.

"Ready?" Lazard asked.

Sephiroth hesitated for a moment, then took a deep breath. "Yes."

They stepped out onto the stage, and were immediately blinded by camera flashes.

***

The press room was so crowded that Genesis and Angeal were forced to stand at the door. "Jesus Christ, get a load of this," Genesis grumbled. "All for a stupid little song and dance..."

At the front, Sephiroth cleared his throat, and focused his eyes forward. Genesis and Angeal had clear view of the teleprompter, although the view was flipped, and it made it very obvious that's what he was reading from.

"Thank you all for attending this conference," Sephiroth started. "The victory at Garuda Plains was a huge success for Shinra's advancement on Wutai soil..."

Genesis rolled his eyes and shook his head. "What a load of bullshit!" he hissed.

Angeal glanced over to him on the other side of the door frame. "You have been in such a sour mood today, what has gotten into you?" he asked in a hush, careful not to garner attention from the back row. "You know they had that all written out for him--"

"Yeah, fuckin' exactly!" Genesis interrupted, grinding his teeth. "All this 'oh, glory for Shinra' and 'I'm the fuckin' coolest'. He's not gonna even talk about me dragging his ass out of there, or what it feels like to kill somebody."

Angeal looked from Sephiroth's face--glazed and disinterested, now that the stage jitter had worn out of it--over to his friend's twisted in anger. "I get it," he muttered. "You wish that were you up there, don't you?"

"N-no!" Genesis denied. The whine in his voice betrayed the incredibly obvious denial. "It just means he's gonna be a Shinra shill, and they're gonna parade him around and he'll parrot all the bullshit they say! Then he’ll have no time for any of us!”

Angeal hushed him as a couple of heads turned their way. "Will you calm down?" he urged.

"I saved his ass, and this is what he shows for it?" Genesis said. The vitriol began to leak out of his voice like a water balloon popped with a single pin. "I thought he was one of us now, but..."

This isn't all about you, Angeal thought, but kept to himself. He doubted he could get through to him anyway. As if I could convince you of that otherwise...Seph looks miserable up there.

"...And I am here to lead Shinra and SOLDIER as the head commander of our new operation."

The audience roared with question and curiosity, flashes blinding the stage.

"1st-class Cetra, can you tell us more?" a reporter asked above the noise.

"Tell us more about the face behind the hero!"

"Sephiroth, is it true you bested an entire army with only one sword?!"

Genesis bristled, baring his teeth. "I can't fucking listen to this shit," he spat, and stormed out briskly.

"Gen!" Angeal called out for him, but he was ignored.

The audience ignored them both, and as Angeal looked to the stage, it did not appear to register with Sephiroth either, if he was even looking at them at all. It did, however, pique the attention of Lazard, who locked eyes with Angeal. Even at the distance, Angeal recognized the look.

("Well, I do have some good news for you," Lazard said, tapping a stack of paperwork on his desk. "Rhapsodos is not going to be disposed of."

"Oh, thank God," Angeal sighed with relief. "Why, though?"

"I'm sure you've seen him in combat," he said. "He's incredible. Ruthless. We haven't had someone like that on the front lines in a long time."

Angeal's eyes cast downward. "So...he's a tool, then."

"Of course he is. You both are, unfortunately." Lazard folded his arms and sat back in his office chair. "And you're research experiments on top of all of that. I know a "sorry" from me isn't going to mean much, but I do apologize for..."

"No, don't. Just..." Angeal couldn't stand the apologizing--it was one thing about the mess he and Genesis agreed on. "Just don't."

Lazard appeared to understand. "Is the compensation sufficient?" he asked in a low voice.

Angeal shrugged. "Sure, but..."

He paused. Lazard nodded. "I know.")

***

Angeal stayed through the entire conference, even after the press left, and met Sephiroth behind the veil. "Hey, how are you holding up?" he asked.

"That was exhausting," Sephiroth sighed, flicking his bangs out of his eyes with his head. "I don't think I would mind doing clean up duty today..."

Angeal chuckled. "Your days of doing clean up duty are over, my friend. You're 1st now, remember?"

Sephiroth blinked. "Ah. Right, of course..." He shook his head, using his hair to avoid Angeal's curious gaze.

"Don't worry. I know it's a lot," Angeal reassured. "Lazard is good, he can help you handle press and what-not...aw, shit."

Sephiroth looked around. The source of Angeal's grimace was walking down the hall--he could feel the heat from Genesis' face at about ten paces. One could assume he was trying to look collected, but it was a losing battle.

Still, he tried to be cordial. "Genesis. Were you watching the conference?" Sephiroth asked, despite the warning signs.

Genesis' eyes narrowed further, and he crossed his arms. "Congratulations on being Shinra's little whore," he spat. "Your face is going to be everywhere in the next couple days. Mister Fucking Hero."

Sephiroth's mouth opened, and he shut it again, utterly speechless.

"Gen, come on--" Angeal tried, but he was thwarted by Genesis' venomous stare.

"And you being buddy-buddy with him over here. He's just better, isn't he?" Genesis gestured quickly, then pushed between them and stormed through. "Fuck you guys, if you need me ever again, I'll be in the training room."

The angry clack of his platform boots could be heard even as he rounded the corner, even as he went ascending up the stairwell. Angeal pinched the nerve between his eyes. "Sorry about him," he said. "He's in a mood."    

"I..can see that," Sephiroth said, distant and perplexed.

Angeal shook his head. "He'll be fine later, just let him blow off some steam."

Sephiroth narrowed his eyes, then tilted his head. "I should go talk to him," he said slowly. "Just..."

"Are you sure?" Angeal asked. Sephiroth's eyes widened--a subtle frown, a crease in his brow. Ah, right. Not everyone's experienced Gen's whirlwinds. His voice became gentle. "He doesn't hate you, you know."

"You think?" Sephiroth questioned.

"Like I said, he'll get over it. Besides," Angeal continued with a smile, "Genesis wouldn't risk his neck out there for just anyone."

Sephiroth looked up, a glimmer of hope in his cyan green eyes. The mako had made them shimmer with irridescence. "Right," he said, "I'll go find him."

Angeal folded his arms as he hurried off. Not the wisest decision, he thought. But if I were in his shoes, wouldn’t I do the same?

I'll have to catch Gen before he leaves to make sure the damage isn't permenant. He doesn't make a scene like this, or go out of his way for anyone, like I told Seph...

Angeal knew perhaps better than most.

(Gunfire was all around them as he laid in a trench, out of sight. The pain in his side was unbearable--even with mako accelerated healing, it would take a while for it to subside. Sweat poured down Angeal's brow. "Gen, just go, go get help--"

"No fuckin' way, and just leave you here?" he said, strained. His voice cracked, and Angeal remembered that they would have graduated high school this year. "They'll find you, and you'll die."

Voices chattered above them. Genesis grabbed at his sword with his right hand and a gun at his left. "Stay out of sight!" he snapped, before leaping out of his hiding spot. More gunfire, the clashing of swords. It blended into a cacophony of sound and flickering light.

Angeal drifted.

When he came to, Genesis was carrying him, an arm around his shoulder as he dragged him through. "3rd-class, you should be on the field still--" a voice said.

"No," he replied. "I won't leave him. I'm making sure he gets back safe."

"I assure you--"

"I'm gonna assure me with my own fuckin' eyes!"

"3rd-class, you will not talk to a superior officer in that tone!"

"Kiss my ass!"

Angeal wheezed a laughing cough. "C'mon, Gen...")

***

Sephiroth left Angeal in the corridor and raced down the SOLDIER halls. Where are the 1st-class training rooms? Do they even have one? They must... His focus kept becoming interrupted by the memory fluttering through his mind.

(It was Genesis's hollering across the desert that broke his fugue.

"Break in! Break in!"

Sephiroth turned slowly. As usual, Genesis was in a red company jacket over his uniform, sword at the ready and the glare of mako in his eyes. "Sephiroth! Seph!" he shouted.

He couldn't will himself to speak. Genesis grabbed him by the shoulders, while other 2nds cascaded in the fight around him, distracting what was left of the army he had taken.

"Jesus Christ," Genesis marveled. He looked around and behind Sephiroth, mentally counting the bodies. Eventually, he gave up and shook him. "You ever think to fuckin' let anyone know before you do this shit?!"

Sephiroth could see himself staring at Genesis. He eventually found his voice. "It was dawn," he uttered.

Genesis's face contorted, then he grabbed him and dragged him back with one arm. "Come on, come on, you're coming back, you've had enough," he muttered. "Damn it!"

"I'm fine," Sephiroth insisted, despite the dead flatness in his voice. "I was...I was..."

"Shut up! Just shut up!" Genesis snapped. He had somehow lifted Sephiroth off the ground completely, his toes barely scraping the ground. "You were surrounded by bayonets and swords and guns, and I don't care what they do to us, you would have lost!"

Genesis coughed, choking on his own ragged breath, but did not slow down.

When the base came into sight, Genesis stopped ten feet away and placed him back on his feet. He held him by his arms. His eyes were watering. "You're one of us now," he said, still choked. For a moment, Sephiroth thought he would say more. Maybe he wanted to.

But, he didn't.

Instead, he shifted gears, as Turks and those out of uniform were beginning to notice their arrival. "Don't give anyone shit. Don't tell 'em anything. They don't deserve it." He sniffled and wiped under his nose. "Let me lead. I'll run interference.")

He finally found the training room and darted inside. Genesis was in the center of the room, gripping his sword so tightly that his fist shook. "Genesis," Sephiroth said.

"Fucker," Genesis responded, spinning on his back heel. "You made me wait! Of course you fucking did!"

He stormed at him, flying forward at an alarming speed. It occurred to Sephiroth that he didn't have a sword on him. He side stepped to avoid the ire of Genesis's blade, then ran to the store room for a blade.

"Get back here!" Genesis roared. "Fight me, damn it!"

He leaned his weight against the door. All that was available to him was a pile of company practice swords. Damn it! I’ve barely had time to consider a personal weapon, now that I’m 1st...

Sephiroth bared his teeth as he rifled through the dull-edged company swords abandoned in a heap. Panic surged through him--these were all junk, junk, in comparison to Genesis's blade. Especially Genesis's blade when its owner was overcome with rage. He wouldn't try to kill me, would he? Sephiroth thought wildly.

"Don't make me wait, you son of a bitch!"

It was difficult to comprehend that this was the same person who had mentored him through SOLDIER training,

("Sephiroth, huh? Not bad..."

"You're pretty good, better than the rest of these shmucks.")

who had dragged him out of one of the most harrowing situations of his life.

("Don't even fuckin' look at him!” He followed him like a hound, snapping at every turned head through the base. “Let him get the fucking blood off him, for Christ's sake!")

The door pounded, rattling on its hinges. "Get out here!"

Finally, finally, he decided on the the least chipped company sword and dragged it out of the pile. With a deep breath, and while it was still, Sephiroth kicked the door back open with his foot. It flung open, smacking against the wall; Genesis had jumped out of the way, although Sephiroth had hoped it would smack him in the face.

"Can't believe you weren't prepared," he huffed, then tossed off his jacket. Hot under the collar. "I expected more of you, 1st-class Sephiroth Cetra."

I was just in a three hour conference? Are you insane? Sephiroth twisted his hands on the grip of his sword. "Genesis, come on..."

Genesis lunged at him, slashing wildly. It took all of Sephiroth's fortitude to meet each blow, blocking with the overused hunk of metal in his hands. The vibration resonated through his whole body, and made his jaw ache. I won't die here, I don't think, Sephiroth thought, desperately trying to reassure himself, I survived that bullshit in Wutai, I can survive anything. But he may give me a concussion...

"It was you! Of course it was going to be you!" Genesis howled, jabbing forward. Every other syllable was punctuated with the clang of metal, arhythmic and aggressive. "You came up and stole the whole fucking show!"

Genesis had nearly pressed him against the wall when Sephiroth found an opening. He knew that a powerful push would leave him wide open, but he had to take the chance. He ducked low, and as Genesis moved to press in, he plowed into his gut, sending him flying backwards.

The rubber on Genesis's platform boots squealed as he skidded backward, but he held his ground. Sephiroth took the opportunity to sprint from the wall and retaliate with a jab and a heavy swing. Genesis met them easily.

"You, you bastard, when you're a monster like the rest of us," Genesis growled. "You think you're better than us, rising all the way to the top! And now you're gonna kiss ass to be Shinra's little golden boy."

"Who said--" Sephiroth grunted, holding his ground. "Who said...who the hell said I was doing any of that?"

He barked out a laugh. "Isn't it obvious? With the interview? The photo ops! Don't play dumb."

"I didn't ask for it!"

"But you love it. All the fucking attention."

Genesis threw an overhead swing squarely at his head. Sephiroth managed to block it, but began to buckle under its weight, despite having the height on him. Has he ever gone all out like this on me? he thought. The metal creaked under pressure. If it weren't for his gloves, his grip would be slipping under the sweat of his hands.

The crazed look was still in his eyes as Genesis continued to pressure him, standing on his toes. "You love it! This is what you've always fucking wanted. I see the pride in your face when anyone praises you."

His tone grew condescending. "And look at all the praise! All hail Sephiroth, savior of Midgar, Shinra...the whole fucking world! An army with one sword! Rrrragh!”

With a final push, Sephiroth's weary sword cracked, and he let go before metal splintered in his face. It clattered to the floor in two pieces. Instead of pressing further with his weapon, Genesis threw it aside and grabbed Sephiroth by the throat.

Sephiroth gasped and tried to pull him away. Genesis kneed him, and breathless, he fell to the ground.

"Of course it would be you! Look at you!" Genesis pinned him down by straddling him, hands around his throat. If his aim was to choke him, Sephiroth thought he wasn't doing a good job--while it was heard to breathe, more of the pressure was on his chest rather his neck.

"Look at you!" Genesis panted again, grimacing. "You're so...you're so...fucking perfect..."

Oddly enough, some of the venom was draining from his face. His grip loosened around his neck and collarbone. And strangely, one hand drifted to Sephiroth's face to caress it.

"If I were you..." Genesis muttered under his breath.

Sephiroth held his own. His heart hammered in his chest, wondering if he should take advantage of...whatever this was.

His muscles tightened, and he stayed frozen.

Genesis grit his teeth, then sat back on Sephiroth's hips, releasing him completely. "Fuck," he whispered, staring at the ceiling. "Fuck."

The spar was over.

Sephiroth could hear every breath both of them took. Dazed, he counted them.

On Genesis's 7th inhale, he stood up and kicked the broken sword aside. He picked up his own sword, sheathing it on his hip, and walked out without another word.

He left Sephiroth staring at the ceiling on the training room floor.

The door slammed shut.

"What the fuck?" Sephiroth said aloud to no one. His mouth was dry, and as he sat up and held out his hands, found they were still shaking. He touched the side of his face where Genesis had caressed it. What the fuck?

Does he hate me, or what?

(”He doesn’t hate you...”)

That would almost be easier. I feel like I'm lucky to be alive...

He slowly rose to his feet, wandering to the exit in a daze. Did he even mean any of that? He sounded so convinced. But had nothing to do with anything I had ever expressed to him.

Except...

("I see the pride in your face when anyone praises you.")

("You're so...fucking perfect...")

("Hey, Seph," he said, grinning as he swung around the cafeteria table. "Guess what?"

"What?"

"I've recommended you for 1st," he replied.

"They...really?" Sephiroth replied. "But I just got promoted to 2nd..."

"I know. But, you're good," Genesis said, leaning in. "Better than any bastard I've seen come through here. It's a no-brainer." He winked at him. "You'll be one of us in no time.")*

He walked automatically through the Shinra building, and didn't recognize that he had left until he was outside. I should...go see Mother, he thought to himself. She won't mind me showing up unannounced. I didn't even sign myself out...hell, I'm still in uniform...

His pager beeped at on his belt, jumping him and spiking his adrenaline. He half expected to hear Lazard come through the tiny speaker, but instead...

"Hey. Sorry about...all that."

His heart jumped. Genesis.

There was a long, heavy pause. "I'll, ah...make it up to you." Another pause. "S-see you tomorrow."

Sephiroth stood in the middle of the sidewalk, staring at his pager. What? He shook his head. I don't...understand it, at all. But at the same time...

...no one has ever done this to me before.

He sits on the floor across from me. He looks very normal, which is crazy for a guy who’s 6 fucking 5 and has silver hair down to his ass. He’s just wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt though. It’s loose on him, and the collar skews enough for me to see his collarbone.

It’s hot.

As for me, I’ve got my dick in my hand and a bottle of lube in the other. I’m rock hard, as usual, since I spent an earlier part of the evening with my face in his hair mumbling how warm he was. I have only become marginally more coherent since then.

Fuck...

I stroke myself and imagine all the things I wish I could be doing to him right now. Insane restraint going on here. I could just lunge over the precipice of the space between us and devour him, but that’s not the agreement. This is worse and better all at the same time. Not better than a blowjob, though. Fuck, now I’m thinking about him blowing me!

“You could...be blowing me,” I tell him.

He smirks, bangs half in his face. “No,” he replies. The question circles him again, and he responds in a different way--shakes his head, snickers a little. “I don’t think so.” He bites his lip.

He’s fucking terrible. “Can you...nn...can you at least take off your shirt?”

This he will oblige to; I bet he’s feeling warm--that’s just what the weed will do to you. And he does...slowly. Stretches his arms over his head. Pulls the shirt over his head. Shakes his hair out. Shimmies his arms out. Puts the shirt aside.

I pump faster, squeeze harder. You see the guys in magazines that have ripped abs, chiseled as all fuck, oiled up and whatever, but they’ve got nothing on the real thing. They doctor that shit in computers, airbrushing, all that. This man in front of me is shirtless and hot but in a real way, a real that’s soft. I could go over and feel his six pack if I wanted to, but I can barely even see it from here...

Heh, I can barely see anything like this...

I think my pleasure would be heightened if I smoked another bowl. I have one half smouldering on my storage chest, so I go and take a clumsy, one-handed hit. It sort of works. I manage to put it down before the euphoria hits me and my eyes roll back into my head.

“Ahhh...” I moan. I need more lube. That’s better.

I feel myself caving into my own head. Things flash into my mind that i can’t even parse. I imagine him looming over me with that smirk on his face...I try to open my eyes, and he’s watching me, watching me, watching me...

those green eyes,

my every move.

I start to cum. I double over. “Oh fuck, fuck,” I utter, in a growling voice that I can’t hold back. I jerk so hard I’m only a step away from humping the floor. I shake and shudder and pump it out of me, all over the floor. I feel like a fucking animal, and in the end I’m left panting, shivering, drooling on my knees.

Still.

Clarity hits me, but the weed hits me harder. I chuckle with a lopsided grin and try to look up at him. “Heh...hey,” I say. “Did I...did I look cool? Was it hot?”

His head tilts from one side to the other. I suddenly feel very vulnerable, as one might when they’re kneeling over their own cum with their dick in hand.

“Yeah,” he replies finally. “Sure.”

I laugh a little, and he laughs a little. This must be some kind of moment. I feel the same way I usually do when Angeal smiles at me sometimes. That can’t be good.

Too bad I don’t care right now...

“Can you...fffuck, can you get me a towel?” I mutter. “Gotta clean the fuckin’ floor...”

He nods, and stands up, slowly, slooooowly, having to use the couch to steady himself. God, he’s tall. Did I mention he’s over 6 fucking feet tall? Wanna climb that bastard like a tree...