InsaneJournal

Fic: Warm
Title: Warm
Author: nishi_shinji
Universe: Final Fantasy
Characters: Sephiroth/Zack
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Sadly, they aren't mine.

Summary: "Alright, look, so maybe don't dance with me, but you've got to dance with someone before the night is over."

Author's Notes: Sequel to Cool. Less humor, more depth, probably not very interesting. Basically, it's a necessary stepping stone between one story and the next.


"But why?"

Zack knew he was pressing his luck, but since that was something he did every day, he wasn't terribly worried about it. Stomping his foot was probably a little over the top, though, judging by the glare Sephiroth gave him in response.

"As you may have noticed, I'm a high-ranking officer, and with that position comes certain standards of behavior," Sephiroth said in an aggrieved tone.

"All the more reason for you to lead by example," Zack pointed out with what he hoped was a winning smile.

Sephiroth's glare deepened to an outright scowl.

"Alright, look, so maybe don't dance with me, but you've got to dance with someone before the night is over." Zack decided that backpedaling would probably be in his best interest, but he wasn't about to give up. Granted, the esteemed general wasn't exactly known for being a social butterfly, but if even Hojo had conceded to waltzing with Scarlet-- which was, Zack had decided, the most terrifying sight he'd seen in a very long time-- the least Sephiroth could do was sway a bit with one of the pretty secretaries who'd been eyeing them.

Sephiroth was tapping his fingers against the edge of their table, which was a sure sign he was about to lose his temper. "Lazard must have failed to mention that dancing was one of the requirements for my position."

"You're impossible," Zack replied, rolling his eyes. "It'd just make a good impression, that's all."

"Does the name 'Wutai' mean anything to you, Fair?" Sephiroth asked, brow arched and lips set in a thin line.

Zack held up both hands in mock surrender. "Okay, okay, I got it, decorated war hero and all that. Look, I'm just saying you should lighten up a little, have some fun, stop taking everything so seriously."

"I get paid to take things seriously," Sephiroth replied as he turned his attention away from Zack and back to the dance floor.

"Well, you're not getting paid for being here-- and if you are, don't tell me, 'cause it'll just make me jealous-- so can we at least go outside and get some fresh air?" Zack pleaded and added a slight pout to the request, just for good measure. At least they'd be alone out on the balcony, which meant there was a good chance Sephiroth would relax enough to start acting like a human being again. Conversation was a new development between them, but unfortunately, it only ever happened in private. Sephiroth had weird ideas about fraternization between ranks, and for some reason seemed to be paranoid about spending time with Zack in public, even though it was a widely known and much joked about fact that Zack spent a great deal of time in Sephiroth's office.

They were waylaid near the door by a very drunk and slightly giggly Reno, who had to be pried away from Zack with Rude's assistance. By the time the two Turks had vanished back into the crowd, with Reno complaining the whole way about being separated from his new best friend, Sephiroth was nowhere to be found. Zack frowned and considered going all the way up to the general's office to pick an argument until he saw that the door to the balcony was cracked open.

"Thanks for the back-up," Zack complained as he slipped out into the night.

"I'm paid to take things seriously, not baby-sit Reno," Sephiroth replied, staring out at the city below. "In fact, I believe 'baby-sitting Reno' is part of Rude's official job description.

Zack chuckled, relieved that his theory about privacy equaling a relaxed Sephiroth had been correct. "Must be kind of fun, though, working with someone like that."

Sephiroth's eyebrow went up a fraction. "Working with a certifiable madman who breaks things just by proximity?"

"I do that well enough on my own, I think." Zack laughed. "No, I mean-- he's just so open about everything, you know? It's like he doesn't care what other people think of him, he just does whatever, and he gets away with it because he's just so honest about what he is."

There was a pause while Sephiroth took a sip of the mineral water he'd insisted on drinking all night. After a few seconds had passed, he set the glass aside on the railing and asked, "You're not even aware of how others see you, are you?"

"I-- what?" Zack replied, genuinely confused by the question.

Sephiroth turned to face him with one hip resting against the railing. "One of the most important tools we, as human beings, have at our disposal is the feedback we get from those around us. You learned that in basic training, albeit in terms of judging your opponent's reactions to your attacks and modifying your strategy accordingly. Yet you don't apply that to life outside the battlefield."

"I don't follow what you're saying," Zack admitted with a frown and a shrug. "Though I kind of get the feeling you're calling me dense, and me not knowing what you're talking about probably isn't going to change your mind about that."

"Probably not, no," Sephiroth replied with the barest hint of a smile.

Zack grinned and leaned against the rail beside the other man to look out at the lights of Midgar. Comfortable silence was something they'd become experts at, which was an odd thought considering that's not something he'd ever expected to have with Sephiroth. In fact, he couldn't think of a single person besides himself who'd ever been so at ease in the general's presence, not even Lazard or Angeal.

"Hey," Zack said quietly without looking away from the city below, "I was just wondering: do you ever just relax? I only ever see you working, or thinking you should be working when you're supposed to be having fun."

There was another beat of silence before Sephiroth hummed softly and replied, "Contrary to the ideas you seem to have formed about me, I do have a private life, Fair. Just because I don't discuss it with you, doesn't mean it doesn't exist."

"Yeah, but you never seem to go anywhere," Zack pressed, completely unabashed. When there was no immediate response, he turned so his lower back was against the rail and glanced up at Sephiroth.

Sephiroth wasn't looking at him, though; the general was still staring off into the distance, and if he were anyone else, Zack would have called his expression pensive. The breeze was lifting Sephiroth's hair in tiny waves of white against the darkness, and Zack thought that maybe, just maybe, he could understand why all the girls-- and even some of the male cadets-- were practically falling all over themselves just to be near him.

They stood there like that for a few moments, with Zack looking at Sephiroth and Sephiroth looking at-- something, maybe his own memories-- until finally, Sephiroth sighed and said, "There are some things which don't necessitate leaving one's quarters, Fair."

"Yeah, but--" Zack began to protest, but when the implications of the statement sunk in, he was too busy battling a fierce blush to speak. The thought that Sephiroth might be seeing someone hadn't even entered his mind, he realized guiltily.

"Once again, I'm flattered by your opinions of me," Sephiroth remarked dryly.

"No, no! No, that's not it!" Zack insisted, waving his drink around and spilling a bit in the process. Cursing, he wiped at the rum that had sloshed onto the sleeve of his dress uniform, and tried to hide the embarrassed flush on his cheeks. "It's just-- I mean-- it's hard to imagine anyone being good enough for you to-- you know, for you to be interested in them. I mean, most of the girls around here, they're all just-- well, they're not worth talking to, most of them."

Sephiroth made a quiet, almost thoughtful sound, before replying, "Yes, you're right about that."

"So it's someone from outside the company?" Zack asked with a fair amount of surprise. If that was the case, no wonder Sephiroth would try to keep it a secret. Relationships between employees and civilians weren't forbidden, but they were definitely frowned upon-- a liability, Lazard had said.

"You're not going to leave this alone, are you?" Sephiroth sounded annoyed, which meant it was time for Zack to back off.

"So how about those lights, huh?" Zack replied with a grin, trying to ignore the heat still tickling his cheeks and the fact that he had his back to the lights in question.

Sephiroth shook his head slightly-- his version of rolling his eyes-- and asked, "Why are you so concerned with what I do in my spare time?"

"Well," Zack began, thinking the question through as he answered it, "I guess because I've been spending so much time hanging out in your office that I figure we're probably friends by now, and that's what friends do, right? Worry about each other?"

"Yes, I suppose you're right," Sephiroth replied slowly. "Though how we came to be friends, I will never know-- likely an oversight on my part."

Zack chuckled and leaned in to bump his shoulder against Sephiroth's chest. "You're pretty much a bastard, you know."

"So I've been told," Sephiroth murmured.

This time, the silence that fell between them seemed awkward, and Zack belatedly realized that his arm was still pressed against the general's torso. Before he could apologize, though, Sephiroth jerked away and turned toward the door.

"They've just announced the last dance," Sephiroth explained, sounding much too calm for a man who was essentially fleeing from a mostly accidental touch.

Deciding it was best not to comment on Sephiroth's skittishness, Zack forced a grin at his retreating back. "Does this mean you'll dance with me?"

Sephiroth stopped by the door and cast a glance over his shoulder. The lights from inside the ballroom cast shadows on his face, making it difficult to see his expression, but there was an odd thickness to his voice when he replied, "Maybe someday, Fair, but not tonight."

Zack slumped back against the railing and watched him leave. It was odd, he thought, to feel so disappointed when he'd been expecting rejection before he'd even asked the question. A burst of laughter from inside caught his attention, and he huffed quietly at his own sulking as he turned to stare out at the city lights. Midgar burned, restless and bright, and he watched it glow against the backdrop of night as he rubbed his thumb over the metal edge of the railing, still warm from Sephiroth's body.