Disclaimer: Final Fantasy VII is the property of Square-Enix. No profit is sought from this work.

Paint the Town.

In His Pants

“You want to what?” Sephiroth cocked an eyebrow at his Second.

Zack shrugged sheepishly and pointed down at his lap. “I can't go out your door like this. What will people say?”

Sephiroth frowned. “You could sneak out the way you came.”

“Whuh? I can't go through Palmer's office with no pants!” Zack swallowed and glanced up at the ceiling. “You know he has a thing for plump hams.”

Sephiroth took a seat, shaking his head. “Well, it's true he's not very discriminating, but you can outrun him, can't you, SOLDIER?”

“And then what?” Zack shifted. “I still have to make it through the building and the air-conditioning is nippy. Plus I can't really run that fast right now.”

Sephiroth massaged his forehead with one hand, long fingers pressing small circles at his temples. “Zachary, it's not like I have a wardrobe in here. What makes you think I'd have pants to spare.”

“You got a toothbrush.”

“I do?”

“Yeah, back in the bathroom, next to the dish full of pretty seashell soap.”

Sephiroth gave a wry snort. Shinra's image consultants at work again. “Was there toothpaste? Because I don't use that fresh-stripe kind.”

“Seph, dammit, can I just have some pants?” Zack whined and tried to stand. His groin had other ideas. He collapsed back into the couch, gasping for air and hoping for more ice.

“I don't have any pants to give you!” Sephiroth snapped. “Besides, they wouldn't fit.”

Zack let his head roll back into the soft padding of the couch. “I could strap them up real good. What else are all the belts for?”

Sephiroth had to admit the boy had a point. He sighed. “I suppose.” He looked around the office. No one would fuss if he took off early. He almost never did it and he had gathered more than enough leave to cover it in any case. “I suppose...” he began again. “Look, I'll lend you my pants on a few conditions.”

Zack sat up straight, all ears. Sephiroth had a sneaking suspicion the boy would perk them up and angle them forward if he could. “First,” Sephiroth swiveled in his chair and held up one hand. “I want them back, clean and pressed.” Zack shrunk a little.

“Second,” Sephiroth continued, “nobody hears about this. Nobody!” Zack nodded.

“Third, this is not going to become a habit of yours. You will not borrow my towel, my comb, my toothbrush that I didn't know I had or my pretty seashell soap.”

“Aww, but you're not using them-”

“I may change my mind about the soap later,” Sephiroth held up a hand, “but if you use my toothbrush, I'll kill you.”

“Hey, no worries, Sir.” Zack gripped the armrest and pulled himself upright, turning slightly to hide the last of the bruising. “There's limits to everything. I got that.”

Sephiroth took a deep breath. “Good. As long as we understand each other.” He turned his back to Zack and began to undo his buckles.

“Whoa, whoa, you're lending me those pants?”

Sephiroth froze. “They're the only pants I have here, Fair.”

“Uh, okay. But what are you going to wear?”

Sephiroth shrugged and undid his fly. “The coat is long and the boots are tall. They'll have to do.”

“Well, alright,” Zack said, sounding uncertain. “If you're sure.”

As a matter of fact Sephiroth wasn't sure but at that point there wasn't much he would not have done to preserve what little sanity was left in his day. He labored past the elaborate buckles of his boots in silence and slipped his slacks off.

“Here,” he said, holding them out without turning. He heard the shuffling sound of Zack inching his way across the carpet, still unable to manage a proper step. Sephiroth felt the slight quiver of his hair moving from Zack's breath and the weight was taken from his fingers.

“Thanks,” Zack said quietly. They both settled down to get dressed again, Sephiroth working his boots back on and Zack inching the fortuitously baggy pants upwards the best he could. There was no sound but the creak of leather and an odd whimper or two.

Zack was breathing hard by the time he got to the buckling stage. The color was all wrong and the pants were far too long, but they were roomy and that, Zack realized, was very, very important for someone who suddenly couldn't put any pressure at all on his fun zone.

When he next looked up, Sephiroth was already sitting down again, folds of leather draped elegantly over his lap. Those boots sure were tall, Zack had to admit, his eyes tracking upwards into the shadows to try to find the end. Just natural guy-curiosity about a buddy, of course.

“Can you make it home on your own,” Sephiroth asked, voice calm and steady as if he absolutely was not sitting in his office in a scandalously pants-free state. Well, no, perhaps he had boxers. Or briefs. Zack's eyes flicked to the shadow between the General's knees again, seeking a sign. What color? Had he mentioned something about going commando at any point, because there was some talk in the locker rooms...

And then, with the quick-creep action of very unpleasant thoughts, Zack became exceptionally aware of his own lack of underoos.

“Go home, Zack,” Sephiroth said, head bowed to his papers again. “Get some rest.”

“Uh huh,” Zack mumbled, reaching into the pockets to pull the fabric up as far away from him as possible. Going pure skin in your good pal's soft, tailored body-warmed slacks didn't count as actual contact, right?

Time: 4 hrs, 42 mins.

Music: The Village People – YMCA

Notes: For all those who were hoping Zack would get into Sephy's pants, there ya go! ;P