Final Fantasy VII: Zack/Anyone, Phone sex, Just because Part 1/2
The inside of the helicopter was chill and strangely quiet, despite the constant roar of the rotary blades that seemed to reverberate through Angeal’s head. He felt trapped, though he was alone as he had ever been; Tseng, who had accompanied him on this particular massacre that bore the name of a mission, had retreated to the cockpit, ostensibly to remind the cocky young Turk actually piloting (Reno, Angeal thought his name was), that when conveying one of the three valuable science experiments masquerading as generals, flying upside down was highly inappropriate.
Surprised at the suddenly maudlin turn of his thoughts, but still vaguely uncomfortable within his own skin, without any real thought to what he was doing, Angeal found himself reaching almost instinctively for his PHS. Checking the local time in Midgar to be somewhere in the late evening, it was a matter of little thought at all to find himself dialling the private line to his own quarters.
For one dreadfully empty moment, he feared that perhaps he had guessed wrong, that Zack would be busy training or fulfilling on his various obligations, either to Shinra, or to one of the friends he attracted as easily as he breathed. But it was only the moment between one breath and the next that the shrill ringing tone reached its fulfilment in an almost inaudible click, and then Zack’s voice, low and burred with sleep,
“Lo?”
For the first time in the three weeks of his mission, Angeal felt a smile twitch irresistibly at the corners of his mouth,
“Just what kind of a way is that to answer, pup?”
He could practically hear Zack jolt to awareness and could not prevent his smile from widening,
“Angeal, ‘zat you?”
“Were you expecting anyone else?”
Zack’s voice was sleepy-satisfied,
“Mmm, missed you.”
Angeal was forced to remind himself that grinning was highly undignified, not to mention inconvenient to explain to the Turks in far too close proximity. But then Zack spoke again, his voice less slurred with sleep and more alive with mischief. A shiver of what he told himself to be apprehension trickled like honey down the older man’s spine,
“Hmm, Angeal…tell me what you’re wearing…”
The…apprehension grew, but Angeal chose for the moment to pretend ignorance,
“My uniform, of course, pup, don’t be ridiculous.”
It was not difficult to imagine the boy’s pout at this response,
“But Angeal…”
“I’m not having this conversation with you over the phone.”
“Hmm, why not?”
“Because it’s indecent.”
He didn’t even have to close his eyes to imagine the boy’s smirk even before his next words,
“That’s the point.”
There was no real answer to that, so Angeal attempted to stem off the dangerous conversation track by maintaining a diplomatic silence. He should really have remembered that diplomacy had never been Zack’s strongest suit,
“Tell me…”
The faintly wheedling tone provoked another irrepressible smile,
“I’ve already told you. Why don’t you tell me?”
He had barely finished speaking, when the sharp stutter of heated breath told him he had made a mistake,
“Ah…I’m not wearing anything.”
His breath caught and he couldn’t prevent the image of Zack’s gold-dusted limbs spread pliant before him, sliding languorously into his vision. Arousal burnt all too easily through his veins, yet he tried to speak, found his breath caught somewhere in his throat, then tried again,
“Can I ask what provoked this particular line of questioning?”