Part One: Jeans

"I'm so childish, a little bit wildish
With my rumdiddlyumdiddlyumdiddly, I'm so deep"


There is something so god-awful in the way he looks at me.

And it's not even part of that sneer that constantly lives in the back of everything he does, like I'm not good enough for him or whatever I do is not enough, you know some kinda bullshit like that and everything. It's more... It's more like he knows something, something so classified it's for him and him alone and yet it seems he has no problem dangling it over my head, like an sadistic older brother teasing his annoying little brother.

God, I hate that.

Yet, every time he does look at me like that, I feel almost violated. Just because he knows that spot that makes my hands clench and back arch, just because he knows how his fingers feel raking lightly down my stomach, just because he knows what he does to me. It makes me want to take my fist and ram it as hard as I can into those mocking green orbs, shattering that icy sheet of perfection.

But every time I come close to doing it, his hand is suddenly trailing down the back of my neck and it's all I can do to stop myself from mewling at his touch. Then the anger turns to something a bit more pleasurable and by the time I can breath properly again, I can't remember why on earth I was ever be angry with him. Especially when his hands gently push through my hair and he pulls our bodies closer together, whispering something softly into the semi-darkness of our bedroom, which is lost in sleeping ears.

He treats me like his possession, do this, say that, go there, yes, no, not today, and I let him do it. For reasons beyond even the incredible sex I let him order me around, let him keep that possessive glint in his eyes and I find that I'm not really sure why. It does bother me, could anyone live their life by another's control? But I still let him do it. Show that he cares in his own twisted little way because everything about that man is twisted, sadistic, and completely... perfect.

He calls me kitten and I hate that.


He's a gorgeous little boy, with hair that acts as if it was torn from the sun and eyes so wildly blue it sends something strange crawling up the back of my spine whenever they so wish to grace me. He's also the most spoiled, selfish, and obstinate man that I have ever meet, will probably ever meet, that is if I am so lucky. Some days it takes every bit of my self control to stop myself from winding my hands around that slender, pale column that is his neck and squeeze as tightly as possible, if only to get him to stop being so... childish.

Of course if you happened to ask my close friends, the whole one of them, they would simply laugh and say that I was one to talk. Not like it matters, I tend to ignore him when he speaks, unless we are in a particularly petty snit and he has taken it upon himself to patch things up between the blond and myself. Of course he does this all on his own accord, acting as if my relationships are any of his business.

Relationship, that's a funny word, here I am acting as if the thing the blond and I have is in anyway something that resembles something that normal. Of course I have always been a bit delusional, not that anyone else ever knew, but still, you know, I am. It is funny though how my thoughts seem to keep coming back to him, or at least are related to him in some manner. But best not to dwell on things such as that it will only bring up even more uncomfortable thoughts and even I'm not delusional enough to ignore what they mean.

... Wow, the ceiling could really use a fresh coat of paint, I wonder how it got so chipped anyway. Well, it could have something to do with wildly flung boots and other such articles in a rather... intimate moment. Or maybe it has something to do with the books that were most recently thrown a tad too accurately at my head... he wasn't too happy when I managed to deflect them after all. Oh... that's right I'm supposed to be angry with him as he is supposedly fuming at me for being my normal, charming self...

Damn... I'm doing it again.

There is just something incredibly pathetic about a man who can't take his mind off a whiny boy with the maturity level of a two year old just because he did something to insult said boy. Yes, I do realize that I just called myself pathetic but I also think I managed to pass that mark when I started talking to myself. I think I'll stare moodily at this report until I find some kernel of interest in my mind and manage to pull out some fairly genius answer to all of Shinra's horrible little problems and I can finally go home...

I call him kitten and he hates that.


The door opened, he didn't have to look up to know that, the hinges though well oiled still gave off the slightest breath of sound and the turning of the door knob as it begrudgingly let go from its groove and let the intruder into the haven it was protecting. He didn't bother to drag his eyes from the paper in his hand, he was already fairly sure he knew who it was, no one else was stupid enough to bother him, especially after the shouting match they had gotten an earful of that morning.

"Don't say it"

Of course he already knew what the other was thinking, they had had this conversation to many times for him not to. A sudden laugh made him pause and then slowly move his head up, he knew that laugh and it definitely was not the one he was expecting.

"As you wish."

The voice was petulant but still in that same smooth tone that slid like water from the boy's mouth. He was surprised to see him here, usually after one of their fights, he was the one that had to come after him or they were dragged into meeting by a certain, annoying, brunette. So it was a bit odd to see him now, leaning slightly against the now closed door, with a strangely amused expression on his face.

"I thought you were Zack."


The blond smirked almost graciously as he pushed off from the door and walked over to the desk, sliding gracefully down into one of the chairs. He wasn't sure how he did it but the blond somehow managed to always look like he was sitting in the planet's most comfortable chair. He wished he would share his wonderful secret because for the life of him he couldn't seem to find one redeeming quality in the chairs that sat in front of him. Of course that was also the reason he had chosen them, there was after all no reason to encourage people to stay longer than they actually had to.

But back to the puzzle on hand, he could tell something was up; just by the way the boy was smirking at him. It was part arrogance, part supremacy, and just a hint of... lust perhaps? Well maybe it wasn't that difficult to guess why the lithe blond had come, their spats rarely lasted this long and usually an hour after they were more than ready for a tussle of the more fun kind. With a slow, gracious smile he set the papers down onto the desktop, leaned back a slight bit and crossed his legs, folding his hands gracefully and resting them atop his knee.

"Something I can help you with Kitten?"

His voice was a low purring in the blonds ear, when he had been younger that voice had been enough for a bright red blush to spread like wildfire across his face but now he simply smiled innocently and leaned forward enough so he could place his elbows on the table and lean against his palm.

"I hope you're not too angry with me Sephy-chan."

Well he couldn't let him get off completely scott free for using that stupid nickname and he knew how much it irked the silver-haired General to be called anything with a -chan stuck on the end. To bad for him the blond took particular sweetness out of teasing the normally stoic man into a reaction, sometimes violent, sometimes more on the strange side but still he savored making those perfect features twist into a frown or something of the sort.

"How could I stay angry with such a precious face?"

He knew he frustrated the man, hell he frustrated himself sometimes but it was just too much fun to watch the man squirm, well squirm as much as he ever would, for him to stop. It was incredibly strange to look up and know almost exactly what was going on behind those pristine green eyes slightly slit in concentration and suspicion. With an almost unsettling grin he pushed himself up and walked around the desk and over to the chair, his body slinking and moving in a way that immediately set the other on edge.

The blond knew exactly what his effect on the man was; he had watched him to long not to know every nuance that reflected through the tight musculature underneath the pale skin. The man may have known what made the younger body beg but the blond, he knew the thoughts behind what made the other shift or even speak. That's how he knew that he was affecting him as he made his slow prowl around the desk. Laughing silently to himself he almost let a grin slip at the cool eyes that would not leave his hips; he knew he had gotten these jeans so low cut for a reason...


God... what have I gotten myself into? I finally decided to start being inspired again (or rather my muses are no longer on strike) and what comes out is a FF 7 fic. Not that I really mind but it's also the first time that I have ever written one... plus I am way to impatient to even finish the game. (Don't worry though I know the story like the back of my hand... okay be a little worried) And plus my Naruto fic fans are going to have my head on a platter...

To top off my little bubble of stress I just made my favorite characters into whiny, spoiled little children who have no business even being within five feet of each other, much less in a extremely screwed up relationship. God, I can just feel the headache coming. Sorry if I confused you with the sudden switches in Pov's if you didn't figure it out the first one is Cloud, the second is Sephiroth and then it switches to third person Sephiroth and then third person Cloud... I am such an idiot.

Oh, the lyrics at the top are to blame for this story (which will be multi-chaptered mind you...) I was looking up some Damien Rice lyrics then all of a sudden I came across a song I had never heard of, being the naturally curious fool I am I decided to look it over. To make a long story short, this appeared and I have decided to make a chapter for every two lines... for a song I have never heard and highly doubt was even created by Damien Rice... I am sooo screwed...

Well excuse my pity party, I hope you enjoyed this chapter and unfortunatly I will be updating on a rather sporadic schedule so forgive me if you don't hear from me awhile after this but I do plan to stick with this thick or thin...

Disclaimer: Me? Own something that cool? Naw too much of a geek for that. Lyrics for the song 'Childish' provided by the wondrous Damien Rice.



P.S.: Did I mention how much I DETEST Quick Edit?