Hello

Now, before you all raise some awesomely dangerous weapons and kill me quite fantastically… I apologise, I had writer's block. Yes, writer's block. I was extremely hesitant to update, so, please all thank windovermountains because without that review, I don't know if I would have gotten out of my ninny corner and updated without it.

Cloud glared at the green concoction of evilness as it drifted closer to his lips in a silver spoon. His lips tightened in defiance as he glared at the General holding said item; there was no way in the seven hells he was consuming that. Ever.

"Cloud," Sephiroth growled in warning, "it's going to spill. Now open up."

"There is n- Ugh!" Cloud cried. The silver-haired man had taken the liberty of forcing the spoon in his mouth, the Cadet reflectively swallowing and gagging at the taste; he could almost feel his taste buds dying.

"You bastard," he grumbled. He crossed his arms, clearly put off at the situation.

"Now, Cloud, don't pout," the General teased.

"I don't pout."

A ghost of a smile tugged at Sephiroth's lips, taking the medicine bottle and spoon, he left the room. The past few days had been stressful for all in the residence of Zack's cramped quarters. The General was looking for housing, and Cloud was on bed rest; leaving him extremely irritable and almost unsociable on some occasions.

To state it simply, the Cadet did not agree with bed rest.

Later that day, however, the General was going to realize the extent.

"Cloud, I'm going to the market," Aerith said, "are you going to be O.k. by yourself?"

"Yah, I'll be fine" He said, more than ecstatic at the prospect of being on his lonesome. Zack was off to train some grunts and Sephiroth was off at a board meeting, or some rot like that.

"O.k. and I want you to contact me if there's a problem."

"Uh-huh."

She left, but not before taking a basket and kissing Cloud on the forehead. He'd been moved to the couch in the living room, rather in the bed he and the General shared in the guest bedroom. He had pestered the silver-haired man for hours before Sephiroth conceded, on the strict order he not move an inch.

What the General did not know didn't land Cloud in trouble.

Once he was sure Aerith had left the premises, he threw the light-blue comforter covering his form away from his person. Slipping his bare feet to the cold hard-wood floor, Cloud slowly lifted himself from the furniture. It felt sluggish, and his legs were weak, but he felt fine. The bed rest was rubbish, what did that stupid doctor know?

He made his way to the kitchen, ignoring the slight twinge in his chest; he was almost there anyways, no point in turning back now. His knees almost buckled in relief when he saw the wooden chairs surrounding the round table in Zack's kitchen; he collapsed in a boneless heap on the one nearest to him.

He was tired, he realized listlessly. He closed his burning eyes, laying his head against his crossed arms on the table. A little rest never hurt anyone, he rationalized, and he'd be up and back in bed before Sephiroth arrived.

With that in mind, he dozed off.

Sephiroth toed off his boots as he entered his friend's apartment. It had been a tedious meeting with the board this morning; as politics always seemed to be when they were being discussed, as it were. All he wanted to do was check on Strife, force-feed him that damned medicine, and sleep. That is, until he found a form slumped over the kitchen table, wrapped in a fantastically familiar comforter.

His eyebrow twitched in irritation.

Surely, surely, Cloud would not leave his bed; traipse down the hallway, barefoot, when the General ordered otherwise. Surely.

He walked over to the unconscious adolescent, huffing in annoyance.

"Cloud," he growled, he shook the Cadet's shoulders, "you need to get back to bed. Wake up."

The blond didn't even stir beneath his ministrations, and the General sighed; the stupid boy was still weak. He gently smoothed his gloved hand through Cloud's wild locks, almost affectionately, before pulling him up into his arms and carrying him to the spare bedroom; comforter in tow. He was still angry, mind, but in all his angst, he lowered Strife with a delicate touch.

He couldn't wait to scold his ears off when the blonde roused, however; with Aerith belong side him, no doubt.

That's it for now, I suppose. Not much humour, I admit, I daresay it sounds quite boring, but I hope you all enjoyed it nonetheless.

It also seems that all my information has been lost on this story, sadly. I had to rewrite the chapter, but now I know the reason behind my computer crashing, so I am content. Hopefully, I will have the end to this story finalized, and finished soon.