Chapter Text
Genesis rifled through Cloud's kitchen, growing more and more horrified by the minute. Cloud was out on delivery, sure, and hadn't expected him to drop by, of course, but still!
Pantry:
- Giant tub of protein powder with an expiration date from last year.
- The dregs of a giant tub of peanut butter *clunk clunk* with what sounded like a spoon in it.
- A can of pumpkin pie filling, expired two years ago.
- A sack of rice.
- A sack of flour, practically melding into the shelf from disuse.
- 3 cans of chicken (he didn't want to check the date).
- 7 packs of the cheapest ramen in the weirdest flavors money could buy.
Fridge:
- Wilted celery.
- Mysterious brown sludge in the vegetable drawer.
- A jar of olives.
- 5 oz of almost-brown ketchup.
- A pack of saltine crackers. (Why???)
- A mysterious takeout container that smelled like death.
- Milk (expiring tomorrow).
- A block of cheese with human-shaped tooth marks.
- Hot sauce.
- Container of what was hopefully soup, but smelled like feet.
Freezer:
- A bag of peas that had clearly been used exclusively as an ice pack.
- A bag of assorted vegetables left open to freezer burn.
- A block of some unidentifiable protein. Perhaps a chicken breast? From the first chicken to ever live?
- Several ice packs.
- A container of shriveled ice that smelled like onions.
- A popsicle that had partially melted and refrozen.
- 2 burritos from 3 years ago.
Unacceptable! How did Cloud expect to entertain a man of Genesis' caliber with such paltry, and frankly, garbage options?! Again, to be fair, he had not invited Genesis over, but what if they met while they were out, Genesis seduced him, they went back to Cloud's for a little rendezvous, spent the night in each other's arms, and woke to THIS?!
What was Strife THINKING?! For shame!
“What the FUCK are you doing?!”
Oh, he was home.
“Cloud Strife, am I to understand you planned to seduce me whilst galavanting about, drive me home on the back of Fenrir (possibly dirtying my coat) to this HOVEL you call an apartment, romance me senseless on that dumpster-salvaged, flea-ridden couch, take me all night on that rickety single-person pallet you call a bed, wake me slowly with tender kisses, and feed me THIS SWILL in the morning?!” Genesis ranted, pointing disdainfully at the offending items around the “studio apartment” as he spoke.
Cloud started with a healthy glow of confrontation when he burst in, but that glow turned redder and redder with each word Genesis uttered, until his fair mountain skin resembled a tomato.
“NO!” roared Cloud.
“I should hope not,” sniffed Genesis. “This is unacceptable to feed yourself, much less a treasured guest.”
“YOU BROKE INTO MY APARTMENT!” shouted Cloud.
“The only thing in here that isn't objectively rotten or almost rotten is the radioactive ramen and the cheese with BITE MARKS,” returned Genesis.
“The milk is FINE!” Cloud countered. “So is most of this! Why is this your business anyway?! You BROKE IN!”
“At least purchase eggs for omelets and close your frozen vegetables so they don't get freezer burn,” said Genesis. “How am I to maintain my health while eating literal garbage?”
“By eating somewhere else?! This is MY KITCHEN, WHICH YOU BROKE INTO!”
“And you ought to throw out the ancient takeout, it's growing tentacles.”
“Get o-AUGH!” Cloud gasped as his geostigma flared. Genesis dashed across the small space to brace him.
“Easy, little bird, breathe deeply. Here, sit.”
Genesis guided him to the ratty couch and Cloud stumbled with him.
“There. You must be tired from your journey, keep breathing. Still haven't told Tifa? You ought to. Let me get your gloves, here…” Genesis wormed the gloves off, massaging Cloud's hands and arms as he went.
This was a bad bout, so Genesis got away with removing Cloud's cloak, boots, goggles, and belts while Cloud panted, eyes squeezed shut and hand clutching his arm where the sores were.
“Darling, let me change the bandages,” muttered Genesis, carefully prying Cloud's hand free. It looked like it was spreading, of course, but a fresh bandage and ointment couldn't hurt, so Genesis got to work.
He burned the old bandages with a flick of magic and a bitter frown on his face. He had deserved degradation and been cured. Cloud and Denzel deserved none of this, and suffered. It was unfair and wrong, but the goddess refused to listen to him until they had “purged the interloper”.
Not that she would tell them where Sephiroth was hiding, or how to be rid of him permanently. Rude.
“You didn't deserve it,” whispered Cloud. “You fucked up a lot, but no one deserves this.”
“Oh chocobo, you know me too well. But come, let us not argue, you are ill. You must rest, eat, and recover for the road ahead.” Genesis looked at the kitchen and cringed. “But not this. Bed or couch, while I fetch real victuals?”
“Here's fine,” said Cloud. “But so is my foo-”
“Dear heart, you are the light of my life, but if you finish that sentence I may have to disown you, which would throw a wrench in our plans to defeat the rabid cat.”
Cloud frowned, but didn't protest further–another worrying sign of the toll this was taking on him–so Genesis kissed him and made for the door.
“I will return shortly. And no, I will not tell Tifa. If you must move, which you shouldn't, then throw out some of your science experiments. Goddess knows both of us have been exposed to enough radiation already.”
And with that, Genesis left, and Cloud tilted his head back, closing his eyes to savor the taste on his lips and brace for the next wave of pain.