Archive of Our Own ^beta

"Seeeeppph?” Zack called, his voice ringing like an unanswered cell phone through the seemingly empty apartment. “Hey, man? Are you here?”

Tossing his unused keycard onto the counter, he passed through the foyer and into the den, accompanied by lingering silence. A quick glance at the washroom proved that it was unlit; a quick glance at his bedroom proved the same. Centering his gaze, mako-fueled eyes grew all the more puzzled as he scanned the empty sofa and ottomans and chairs, silence beating on.

The only token of his friend's presence was the PHS sitting on his coffee table, closed and polished to an equal shine, its army-green case familiarly unadorned.

Hmm.

Belts of fiery dusk striped across the floor and furniture as Zack strolled further into the den, blinking at the patient device. How long had Seph been gone for? The guy only messaged him twenty or so minutes ago, letting him know that he had arrived before Zack. Did he just run back to his quarters to grab something? An important artifact that he forgot to bring over? Of course, it wasn't like good ol' meticulous Seph to be forgetful—not that he would blame a quick lapse in memory after the breathless day of "brief"ings and paperwork and, gods, the rookie training...

Yeah.

Anyone's brain would lose a slice after that.

Smiling funnily at the thought, Zack stretched his arms over his head, taut muscles crackling like coal. Seph would be back soon—he was sure of it. Had he rushed off to anywhere important, he would've alerted Zack in a heartbeat; that was their promise. Communication was one of their greatest strengths, solid and unseverable as diamond, and he knew just as unflaggingly that Seph would never do anything to threaten that precious trust.

He'd just have to wait for his buddy to return.

Zack softened into a genuine grin as he left the PHS be and sauntered back toward the foyer, surveying his quarters in search of a simple task—no vacuum, no mopping, no dishwasher—to scratch off in the meantime. Crossing his arms, the First let his gaze float from option to option, drifting from the adjoining kitchen to the coat closet to the equidistant...

Ah! Perfect!

His mind settled, Zack strolled into the one room that truly was a treasure to have as a First—the laundry room, Minerva bless. Never again did he have to trek down fifty-plus stories and into the SOLDIER communal laundromat, gamble whether or not one machine would be open, then gamble again for the chance that the previous user would remember to take their clothes out (which, sure, was Zack a solid chunk of the time, soooo scratch that please).

The point was: being able to conveniently wash his sheets and blankets rocked.

A melodic hum now aided the silence as Zacl ambled toward the jumbo-sized, fawny basket that sat just in front of the dryer, bending down as he gripped the laundry-laden bin of mesh and lif—

Heavy.

It was heavy.

Way heavier than Zack had remembered it being.

So heavy that he nearly bowled right over.

…

What.

The SOLDIER stopped, regaining equilibrium, before taking a good look at the grey-blue bundle of sheets...

And immediately noticed the threads of silver stringing between the laundry, peeking through the sheets.

Oh.

Oh!

Oh...!

His heart ballooning with understanding, Zack reached out and—most gingerly, like testing delicate waters—peeled back the topmost layer of laundry to reveal Seph, sound asleep, curled into a silver-black ball as he basked in the aromatic perfume of lavender detergent, nestled in the blankets' warm and plushy weight. His once-knitted brows were thoroughly relaxed, untweezed, his breaths lulled into to an unburdened rhythm against the demanding winds beyond this shelter, his world quelled into zephyrs.

He was exactly where he wanted to be.

"Mmmn~"

There was no need for question.

No need for logic.

No need for explanation.

"...You got it, bud."

Tucking the blanket back over his cherished friend, all Zack needed to do was let Seph rest, flick off the lights, and wish him a good night.

One of the biggest misconceptions to circulate around ShinRa headquarters was the function of General Sephiroth’s pull-up bar.

The cylindrical equipment stood in the rightmost corner of his friend’s office, nestled between the sofa arm and wall, hunkered away in a cozy cave of shadow that neither the honey-gold lamplight nor long stretches of window could disturb. Only those who’ve been summoned to General Sephiroth’s office have seen that bony piece of metal, whereupon they would make the honest assumption that Gaia’s strongest warrior—a bipedal terrain of muscle that was capable of capsizing a truck—used the equipment to augment his burly build in the privacy of his own workspace.

Why would the great General need to train among his scrawny subordinates? they would think, stealing a peek at the bar as they received their cool and professional briefing, then would feed the belt of misinformation by disclosing their astute observation to others.

Dude! Get this! The General does a full-on workout in his office!

You serious?!

Dead serious! He’s probably doing a thousand reps between meetings…!

Zack didn’t blame them for thinking this, of course

They just didn’t know Seph well enough.

“…You got any sevens?”

Reclined on the sofa, Zack glanced up from his fan of playing cards, hoping to outwit his sword-sharp friend before their lunch break ended.

He watched in quiet anticipation as Sephiroth scanned his own hand.

“Go fish,” the man then determined, silver hair gushing down to the floor as the man hung upside-down from the bar, long legs wrapped around its frame in a secure, comfortable grip.

“Ifrit,” Cloud cursed, the jagged exclamation muffled by his scarf, “…could’ve sworn I had more juice.”

It took a moment for Zack to realize that, rather than referring to fruity liquid (and subsequently pointing out the nearby vending machine), Spike was irked by the extinguished state of his PHS, how it didn’t rekindle as he furiously thumbed the screen and buttons.

Not that it’d need to stay dead for much longer.

“Don’t sweat it,” Zack chirped, offering to take the dead cellphone. “Gimme here.”

Cloud blinked, then gratefully handed it over. “You got a charger on you?”

“Sure do.”

A beat passed, and the two continued to stroll down the upper SOLDIER hallway.

“…Uh,” Cloud said, confused that Zack wasn’t fishing out any kind of cable, “where is it?”

“We’re almost there.”

“Huh?”

“S'just up ahead.”

“What is?”

“A charger~!”

“But I thought you said… Wait, why are we going into—“

“Alright! We’re here!”

“—the General’s Office?!”

“Knock, knock, knock!”

Before Cloud could register what the hell was happening (or, rather, conjure up a plan to run away), he found himself staring into the Greatest SOLDIER's personal office—large windows, a backdrop of cityscape, an olive carpet and book-toothed shelves and a grand, mahogany desk.

It was like staring into the sun…

…and Cloud did not have any sun protection.

Not even his helmet.

The cadet’s cheeks burned up.

“Morning, Seph!” Zack waved, waltzing across the place like it was his home away from home. “Gotta a quick favor to ask you~”

Veiled behind the day’s newspaper, Sephiroth rumbled in acknowledgment. “Mmhmn? And what would that be?”

Cloud crunched down on his lip.

Gaia, was Zack disturbing the General… on HIS behalf? To charge his stupid—?!

“Just need ya to fuel this up,” Zack chirped, and there it was—his blue cellphone, charmed with a chocobo chick plushie and all, being offered to General Sephiroth like a stuffed animal in need of stitching (…which, there was a slight tear in the choco chick, but it’s not like HE needed to know that).

Cloud swallowed, sidestepping out of view.

“Z-Zack, it’s cool—“ He couldn’t help but butt in, remembering he had a charger back in the barracks… probably, somewhere. Hopefully. “Y-You don’t need to bother the—“

“Nonsense,” Sephiroth hummed, shaking his head, and the newspaper came down like a royal fan upon the table—the silver cascade of a SOLDIER revealed in that single, deft motion. “It’s not a bother at all.”

The acceptance was enough to shut Cloud up, sinking into the familiar weight of his scarf. If-f you say so! he would’ve said, had he not been so unbearably gelatinous. So long as it’s not too much trouble…!

It probably wasn’t trouble at all, in all honesty. Zack had told him enough about the man to know that his heart wasn’t as arctic as the world made it seem, with the General always going out of his way to help troopers, SOLDIERs, and even the oldest of staff (R&R notwithstanding, for reasons that seemed too fragile for Cloud to press). He’s just a great guy Zack would say, and he would mean it from the most earnest pouches of his heart. Nothing to be afraid of; I swear, pal.

Cloud’s cheeks cooled down a bit, watching as Sephiroth accepted his PHS.

“…Heh,” Sephiroth hummed, feline eyes studying the chocobo chick as he held the phone up. “What a curious charm."

Nope, never mind.

Back to burning.

“Right? Isn’t it the cutest thing ever?!” Zack flicked the toy. “Maybe I’ll get you one.”

“Heh…” A smirk landed on Sephiroth’s lips, soft and harmless. “How much do you want it charged?”

“I’d say all the way”—then, tossing the question over his shoulder—“Does all the way sound good, Spike?”

“All the way’s fine,” Cloud called from the doorway. “But only if it doesn’t take too much of the General’s time—“

“No worries, it won’t!”

“Don’t fret,” Sephiroth seconded, his thumb hovering over the screen, and he placed his PHS on the desk. “It should only take a few seconds.”

J-just a few seconds? Cloud marveled, his sheepishness momentarily eclipsed. Could a charger even be that fast, going from depleted to fully fueled? Or was it just another ShinRa advancement that General Sephiroth had access t—

“And there we go,” Sephiroth said, humming in satisfaction, and he lifted his thumb as the blackened screen came alight. “Power restored.”

…

……

………

H u h ?

“Sweet! Thanks, bud!” Zack chirped, plucking up the rejuvenated cellphone. “You’re the best.”

“Of course.”

…

……

………

Cloud blinked, slowly.

Were charging cables just a myth?

“Aight, here you go!” Zack offered his PHS back, having left and closed the office door amid Cloud’s incredulity. “All juiced up, nice and quick.”

“…Right,” Cloud said, and pocketed his PHS with all the gingerness of an Ultima spell. “…Thanks.”

“No prob!” the First beamed, then continued towards their initial destination—Zack’s own apartment, housed just around the corridor.

He seemed more unfazed than a block of cheese against a toy knife.

Continuing to blink, Cloud trailed behind him.

“…So, uh. He can just do that?”

“Who?”

“…The General?”

“Oh, yeah—he does it all the time.”

“…Charging phones, you mean?”

“Phones, laptops, dead cars—guy can refuel them all.”

“…With his finger?”

“‘Course.”

Cloud swallowed, scratching his neck.

“…Can he tase people?”

“Theoretically, yeah. But he doesn’t like to resort to that.”

“…I see.”

But one thing did actually make sense, now that Cloud was thinking about it:

The reason why Zack never seemed to give a damn when his phone died.