Title: Chicken Soup
Author: Lazra
Beta: none
Pairing: Zack/Sephiroth
Warnings: This fic involves potty mouths and bodily fluids, and if you squint and tilt your head, there might be some yaoi.
Disclaimer: Everything in this story is copyright to someone who is not me. All I own is a rabid plotbunny, and we're both broke.
Summary: What's the opposite of a hypochondriac? Zack's finding out.
Notes: My attempt at a bit of Zack/Seph fluff. I think I'm coming down with something.
Notes2: There is a sequel called "Fever Pitch", but I think it violates posting guidelines (in other words, sex) so it remains comfortably nested in my LJ. (http // lazra . livejournal . com / 19109 . html)

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Zack marched down the halls of Shinra's headquarters.

Usually, he smiled and greeted everyone he passed. If he actually knew the person, he might stop to chat a bit before going on about his business. Everyone warmed to the ever-friendly attitude that surrounded Zack. Even the coldest and most callous of them could muster up a smile when they saw him coming.

But today was different. His stride was swift and purposeful. He passed people with no more than a nod and a ghost of smile, more out of habit than anything else. He didn't greet, he didn't chat, he didn't even flirt with the cute secretary he'd had his eye on.

Today he was worried. His general hadn't shown up for morning drills, and Zack was on his way to find out why.

Most people wouldn't have bothered to search for the general, assuming he had better things to do, or simply didn't want to come. But Zack knew Sephiroth better than that. Sephiroth did not miss drills unless he was scheduled to be away, and he always kept Zack up to date on that. After all, Zack would be in charge if he was gone, and Sephiroth would give him as much advance notice as he could. He never simply didn't show.

Zack made his way to Sephiroth's office and barged through the door without knocking. He half-expected to see the general slumped over dead at his desk; that was how worried he was.

Instead, Sephiroth looked up from the papers in front of him, annoyed at the intrusion. "Yes, Commander?"

Zack stared at him. "What do you mean 'yes, commander'? I've been worried sick about you!"

One fine white eyebrow arched. "Have you?" Zack rolled his eyes. "Why is that?"

"Why? Because you were a no-show at drills this morning. That's not like you, never. I thought maybe an assassin got you, or some rabidly infectious paper cut, or…something. Shit, man…why didn't you call me, let me know? You're not exactly buried in paperwork here. What gives?"

Sephiroth calmly arranged the contents of a folder before putting it in his outbox. "I did call you. You keep it turned off unless you're expecting a call, remember. How did you put it? Ah yes, 'I don't like the idea of getting calls from everyone and their dog at HQ. If it's that important, they can either find my ass in person, or call the next dumb bastard in the directory.'" Zack watched Sephiroth pick up another folder. The barest hint of amusement sparked in his pale green eyes.

Zack kicked the door shut and folded his arms across his chest. "I'm still waiting," he said tersely.

The eyebrow arched again. "For?"

Zack sighed in exasperation and raked a hand through his hair. "Why - did - you - miss - drills?" He punctuated each word, as though speaking to someone unusually slow. Sephiroth did not miss that fact. The hint of amusement was replaced with more than just a hint of impatience.

Anyone else might have fallen to their knees to beg The Great General's forgiveness, or just turned tail and ran for their lives, but Zack was not anyone else. He was one of the few people who could genuinely refer to Sephiroth as a friend. As such, he knew how to read Sephiroth's moods better than pretty much everyone. He wasn't in any danger…yet.

Sephiroth snapped open the folder and sniffed disdainfully at the resultant breeze. "I have paperwork to do. Leave."

Zack was getting more than a little impatient himself. "'Paperwork' my ass, man. You could do five times this much during you're lunch break. Probably have, too." He sat in the chair opposite of Sephiroth and planted his feet on top of the desk with a smug grin. "And I'm not leaving until I get a good answer."

Sephiroth sighed and sniffed again. "Zack, today is…not a good day." Zack frowned at the tired tone in his voice. "I have to get this done. Just…please"

Zack's eyes went wide at that word. General Sephiroth did not plead for anything. He demanded, he took, he was given - no begging required. "Seph, are you…feeling okay?"

Sephiroth passed a hand over his face tiredly. Zack finally noticed the reddish tint to his eyes and the dark circles underneath. His skin was slightly flushed, which in Zack's mind, meant that he had a normal person's skin tone, rather than his usual milk-pale complexion. Something was definitely wrong, and Zack kicked himself for not seeing it when he first walked in.

Sephiroth opened his mouth to say something, but never got further than an inhalation. His eyes went wide, then his whole faced pinched inward, and then

"ACH-CHOOO!!!"

Zack nearly fell out of the chair in shock. The sound of it was like a rifle blast in the quiet office. Zack scrambled to find a tissue. Sephiroth, meanwhile, had hunched over in his chair, sneezing into the wastepaper bin.

"Ach-CHOOO-Ach-CHOOO-CHOOO!!!"

Zack was having no luck in his search. "Fuck, man, don't you have any tissues?"

"Doh," was the nasally response. "Ah don' ged sig'." Sephiroth blew his nose into his gloved hands to clear the mucus, then he scraped it off of his hands onto some discarded paper in the bin, and wiped the remainder off on his trousers.

Zack watched the process with morbid fascination. "Seph, I never thought I'd say this to you, but…that was probably the most disgusting thing I've ever seen." Sephiroth scowled at him. "Seriously, that was nasty. How long have you been sick?"

"I don't get sick," he repeated. "I still have paperwork to do. Leave."

Zack rolled his eyes and stepped around the desk. He tried to feel Sephiroth's forehead for a fever, but found his wrist caught in a tight grip. "Leave," Sephiroth commanded.

Zack knew he was treading on dangerous ground now. Sephiroth was sick and too stubborn to admit it. Zack could very well find himself on the wrong end of a beating before finally getting thrown out the door - or possibly through it.

"Seph…I'm your friend. As your friend, I say you're sick. Let's just get you to the infirmary, so we can get on with our lives, 'kay?"

Sephiroth let go of his wrist. "I don't get sick," he said again quietly.

"Which makes the fact that you are sick even worse." Zack gently tugged an arm. "C'mon. Infirmary. The sooner we get there, the sooner we get out of there, right?" He smiled invitingly at Sephiroth.

Sephiroth gave him a sidelong glance and didn't budge. "I - don't - get - sick."

Zack sighed angrily. "Fine…fine! The Great General doesn't fucking get sick. Well that's just dandy, isn't it? Isn't it! 'Cause I'm willing to bet that when I come in here tomorrow morning, you'll have drowned in a puddle of snot, and I'll have to be the one to write your damned eulogy!" Zack stalked to the door, muttering curses that would make a sailor blush.

"Zack…" The weakness in Sephiroth's voice made Zack turn around. Sephiroth fidgeted, an alien movement for him. "If I was sick, then I would be spending the next month in Hojo's lab so he could figure out how I got sick, and why my immune system wasn't kicking it out quickly enough for his taste. Then I could look forward to more fun-filled weeks of injections, testing, being chained to a table, and injections while he 'perfects' my immune system."

"You said 'injections' twice," Zack pointed out.

Sephiroth stared at him. "Well, Hojo really likes that part." He sighed and shivered.

Zack went back around the desk and put his hand on Sephiroth's forehead. "Man, you're burning up."

"I'll live…or I won't. It's still better than anything Hojo might do."

Frighteningly, Zack knew Sephiroth meant it. As a SOLDIER, Zack had had the displeasure of Hojo's company a handful of times. Sephiroth had been raised by the creepy scientist, and Zack honestly couldn't imagine Hojo as any sort of decent parental figure. He wouldn't put it past the creepy bastard to do unspeakable things to a little kid - even his own.

"Just stay here, I'll be right back." Zack left the office and headed straight for the commissary.

An hour later, Zack was bouncing down the hallways. He still didn't stop for chatting, but he was in more his usual chipper mood.

He barged into Sephiroth's office again. "Hi, honey, I'm home!"

Sephiroth arched an eyebrow.

Zack smiled, pulled his cargo into the room, and shut the door. It was a large wheeled container, usually used for transporting munitions. Zack knew it was the perfect disguise. No one would think twice about a pair of 1st Class SOLDIERS with a box of weapons. They would, however, raise a few eyebrows if they knew what was really in the container.

Zack snapped open the lid and began removing the contents. He gave Sephiroth a huge bottle of water, then opened a thermos of some steaming liquid. "TADA!!!"

Sephiroth stared at the bottle in his hands and the thermos in Zack's.

Zack rolled his eyes. "Haven't you ever heard the old saying? 'Drown a fever; feed a cold.' You've got both, so start drinking." He took the water from Sephiroth and replaced it with the thermos. "Should probably start with the food. Homemade chicken soup!"

Sephiroth's lips twitched. "Homemade?"

"Yep. I opened the can and hit the microwave buttons all by myself."

"And what if I have the flu?"

Zack thought a moment. "'Drown a fever, feed a cold…and hot weasel sex for the flu.'"

Sephiroth pursed his lips thoughtfully. "Let's hope I only have a cold, then."

"Less talk, more eat." Zack pulled a small ice chest out of the container. He dumped it on top of the folders on Sephiroth's desk. It was indeed full of ice, as well as several small towels. He took one out, brushed platinum hair away from Sephiroth's face, and put the icy towel on his fevered skin.

Sephiroth inhaled sharply at the sudden contrasting sensations of heat and cold. Then relaxed into Zack's ministrations. He even let Zack take off his armor and leather coat.

"Stupid coat's probably half your problem," Zack said, hanging the garment on a rack in the corner. "No way your fever could cool off with that thing on."

Sephiroth hmmed noncommittally and sipped his soup. Zack grabbed another towel and began bathing Sephiroth's chest. After that, Zack got to do something he'd wanted to do for ages…He stuck his hands into the silver mane and ran his fingers through the silver locks before flipping the mass over a shoulder, so he could bathe Sephiroth's back.

Sephiroth narrowed his eyes at Zack. "This will look awkward if someone comes in."

"You're right…I'll take off my shirt too. That way if someone barges in, we can tell them we're about to have hot weasel sex, and they'll have to leave."

Zack was just being silly, but it had the intended effect. Sephiroth's lips twitched in amusement. "Then we had better tell them it's 'hot monkey sex' instead. They might be suspicious, otherwise."

Zack laughed, and indulged in the silver hair once more as he flipped it back behind Sephiroth. He dove back into the container and came up with a jar. He opened it and began spreading the contents over Sephiroth's chest.

Sephiroth frowned at the greasy concoction that Zack seemed to be having far too much fun smearing over him. "Do I want to know what this is?"

Zack chuckled. "Eucalyptus paste. Clears the lungs."

Sephiroth hmmed again and let Zack continue fussing over him.

They spent a long while in silence. Sephiroth drank his soup, then started on the water. Zack continued bathing his arms and shoulders and changing out the cold towel on this head.

A knock on the door shattered the calm. Zack hurriedly stuffed things back into the container or behind the desk. Sephiroth didn't miss a beat and simply called out "Who is it?" as he stood to put on his coat.

"Tseng," was the reply.

Zack had hidden his nursing supplies and sat in the chair, using the munitions container as a footrest.

"Enter," Sephiroth called.

Tseng walked in carrying a thick folder, bound shut and stamped with a great red "Top Secret" on the cover. "General." He nodded a greeting. "Commander." He didn't even look at Zack. "You'll need this for your meeting with the president this afternoon. It's for your eyes only." His gazed flickered to Zack. "Is there a reason you are using an ammunition crate as a footstool, Commander?"

Zack smiled brightly at him. "Because the general doesn't have a regular one."

"And I warned him that if he ever put his filthy boots on my desk again, I'd chop them off at the ankles." Sephiroth cleared away the remaining paperwork from this morning to deal with Tseng's delivery. "Commander, leave the crate. I'll want to examine it more thoroughly later. Thank you both, gentlemen. Dismissed."

Tseng nodded and turned smartly on his heel. Zack lingered. He took his phone out of his pocket, and switched it on. "Let me know if you need anything." Then he left too.

Blissfully alone, Sephiroth removed his coat again and opened the crate. Inside were two more bottles of water, a bottle of sanitizing liquid, an extra set of gloves, ten boxes of tissues and a note:

Dear Seph,

I thought about it, and now I'm sure. That was the most disgusting thing I've ever seen. Keep a box in your desk drawer, for fuck's sake man. Some of us are young innocents here…I'm not sure who, but there's gotta be one or two crammed in a locker somewhere, and that was N A S T Y ! You do realize you've just infected the whole file room with your nasty general germs, right?

Anyway…Get better soon, or I'll have to come back and give you mouth to mouth. It probably won't help you get better, but it'll be fun. Trust me.

Kindest regards,
Zack