MadamHydra (madamhydra) wrote,

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COI - Ficlet: SOLDIERs Just Wanna Have Fun (crack)

Here's a silly little song-ficlet inspired by a hilarious song by The Irish Rovers, called "Wasn't That a Party?". ^_^

Title: SOLDIERs Just Wanna Have Fun
Author: MadamHydra
Beta: none, very rough draft
Fandom: FF7 AU (COIverse)
Type: ficlet
Pairing/Characters: Sephiroth, Zack, misc Turks
Rating: PG-13
Wordcount: ~1700
Warnings: mild crack
Disclaimer: Final Fantasy VII and all related prequels and sequels belong to Square-Enix.

Summary: Sephiroth has to cope with the aftermath of Zack's promotion party....

Cross-posted to soldiersmut and zackfans and ffvii_yaoi

A/N: You can download a copy of The Irish Rovers' song here: Wasn't That a Party?

Could have been the whiskey, might have been the gin.
Could have been three or four six-packs,
I don't know, but look at the mess I'm in,
My head is like a football, I think I'm gonna die,
Tell me, me oh me oh my,
Wasn't that a party?

Dressed not in his customary leathers, but rather his usual sleeping wear of black shorts and tanktop, Sephiroth stood in the entrance area of the SOLDIER barracks and surveyed the sorry sight before him. Normally, he was not one for stress-related tics and twitches, but on this occasion, he couldn't help tapping a bare foot on the polished floor in a slow, ominous rhythm.

Before him stood twelve of Shinra's finest First Class SOLDIERs.... well, 'stood' was an overly generous term. It was more like they remained upright on their feet only by leaning on each other at rather precarious angles. At any second, Sephiroth fully anticipated watching the entire group come crashing to the ground in a heap because one of them leaned just a -little- bit too far in the wrong direction.

Normally, SOLDIERs did not get drunk on mere alcohol, given their enhanced metabolism. Getting inebriated took not only serious work, but considerable ingenuity in the selection of intoxicant. That being said, it was clear that the First Classes in front of him had tackled this difficult task with the same efficiency and determination that they applied to their more professional duties.

In other words, they were completely and utterly drunk out of their minds.

What the HELL had these men been drinking to get them into this state? It couldn't possibly be legal. Sephiroth made a mental note to himself to check out the possibility of illegal distillation stills at headquarters.

He raked long sleep-mussed silvery hair away from his face, then glared at the very newest First Class standing... no, -leaning- front and center of the group.

"Zack...," he growled dangerously.

Someone took a grapefruit and wore it like a hat,
I saw someone under my kitchen table, talking to my old tom cat,
They were talking about hockey and the cat was talkin' back,
Along about then everything went black,
But wasn't that a party?

"Yes, Seph?" Zack grinned innocently at him. That was hardly unusual, but the slow side-to-side weeble was definitely atypical.

"Would one of you like to explain what happened in the chocobo stables?" Sephiroth said with exaggerated patience. "How about you, Captain Fitz? Seeing as how you have chocobo feathers in your hair."

The tall, red-haired Fitz blinked owlishly, then said, "I was getting odds, Sir."


Fitz hiccuped almost daintily before saying in an earnest voice, "Yes, Sir. Betting odds. On the blitzball game between the Icicle Bandersnatches and the Corel Cokatolis."

"I see. You were asking Commander Escovar's prize breeding chocobo for blitzball odds."

"Yup. Gave me some nice ones," Fitz replied happily.

"And why did you let it out its stall?"

"Because it asked me to," Fitz said, looking a bit surprised that the great General Sephiroth hadn't figured that obvious answer out for himself. "He wanted to visit this sweet green chick over in the next stableblock...." Fitz began to make appreciative curvy gestures with his hands.

Sephiroth hastily held up a hand.

"Enough. I've got the picture."

I'm sure it's just my memory playin' tricks on me,
But I think I saw my buddy cuttin' down my neighbour's tree,

He then turned to a short, stocky SOLDIER with dark buzzcut hair.

"And you, Lieutenant Dalmas. Would you care to explain why you hopped over an estate wall, snuck into the garden, and cut down Mrs. Palmer's prize ginkgo tree with a dinner knife?"

"Uhhhh... it was a dare." Dalmas rolled his eyes in Zack's direction. "Did it in one hit, too."

"Did not!" Someone in the back of the group called out.

"Did too!"

"Did not!"

"Did too!"

"You cheated! You used a steak knife instead of the butter knife!"

"Quiet! Captain Matthias," Sephiroth said, addressing the protester in the back of the swaying drunken huddle of SOLDIERs. "I'll deal with you later."

Could have been the whiskey, might have been the gin.
Could have been three or four six-packs,
I don't know, but look at the mess I'm in,
My head is like a football, I think I'm gonna die,
Tell me, me oh me oh my,
Wasn't that a party?

Sephiroth was perfectly aware of the reason for the drinking party, namely Zack's promotion to First Class. But he should've known better than to expect that they would settle for a few nice, leisurely rounds of drinks at one of the bars that SOLDIERs tended to frequent. Definitely should've known better especially with Zack involved....

Old Billy Joe and Tommy, well they went a little far,
They were sitting in my backyard blowing on the siren in somebody's police car.

Sephiroth massaged the bridge of his nose with his right hand, took another deep breath, and counted to ten before speaking.

"And in your haste to leave the Palmer estate, you 'borrowed' a police car and went on a little joyride with lights flashing and sirens blaring."

"The cops weren't using it," Matthias said in plaintive tones, "They were too busy sucking down coffee and donuts." He stopped, slowly tilted to the left, then slid bonelessly onto the floor, out cold.

So you see, your honour,
It was all in fun,
That little bitty track meet down on main street,
Was just to see if the cops could run,
Well, they run us in to see you,
In an alcoholic haze,
I can sure use those thirty days to recover from the party.

Sephiroth glared at the SOLDIERs who were still conscious... barely.

"Not content with that escapade, you then proceeded to relieve two Turks of their motorcycles, and had an impromptu drag race with said motorcycles and police car down the highway at speeds exceeding 120 mph. At 2 AM in the morning. Am I correct?"

All he got from the First Classes were sheepish, but thoroughly unrepentant grins.

Yes, totally bombed out of their skulls. And Zack.... Clearly there was no point talking to them any further, even though he hadn't even begun to scratch the surface of their transgressions, including such brilliant events like the rooftop hopping race, the water balloon barrage, multiple counts of grand theft chocobo, freehand paintball sniping, to name a few.

He sighed, then glanced over at the five Turks standing just inside the door. Two of them looked rather annoyed, while Tseng was trying his best to look stern and impassive. However, he wasn't quite successful at hiding his amusement.

"I'll take the appropriate disciplinary action as soon as they're sober enough to appreciate it. Will that be satisfactory, Tseng?"

Both Sephiroth and Tseng knew that the situation could've turned out much, much worse, considering the number of armed, materia-toting First Class SOLDIERs involved. Fortunately, all the members of Zack's drinking party were very mellow drunks and hadn't raised any fuss when the understandably irate Turks had caught up with them and 'escorted' them back to the SOLDIER barracks to face their commanding officer who had been rudely roused out of a sound and much needed sleep.

"Since there was no real harm done," Tseng glanced at the annoyed pair of Turks, "That will be adequate. I'll forward the damage reports to you."

"You do that."

Tseng nodded and led the Turks out of the SOLDIER barracks.

At this point, three more of the SOLDIERs had passed out and were snoring loudly on the floor, while the rest of the First Classes looked like they were about to join their buddies at any second.

Sephiroth considered just leaving them to sleep their binge off on the hard cold floor, then changed his mind. He grabbed Zack by the arm and hustled him down the hallway toward Sephiroth's own quarters. Along the way, he ordered the SOLDIERs on night duty to cart their incapacitated colleagues back to their respective rooms.

Could have been the whiskey, might have been the gin.
Could have been three or four six-packs,
I don't know, but look at the mess I'm in,
My head is like a football, I think I'm gonna die,
Tell me, me oh me oh my,
Wasn't that a party?

Once back in his own quarters, he hauled Zack into the bedroom and shoved his SiC back onto the bed. As the other man lay dazed and sprawled out on the sheets, Sephiroth efficiently removed Zack's boots and stripped him down to his underwear.

"Hmmmm....?" Zack mumbled in vague curiosity.

"Shut up and go to sleep, you idiot." No, there was no indulgent fondness in his voice. And no, he didn't -mean- to rumple Zack's hair. Seriously.

Zack obeyed his commander, rolling over and burying his face in Sephiroth's pillows with a deep inhaled breath, followed by a contented growl.

Sephiroth gazed down ruefully at his softly snoring SiC now taking up a good two-thirds of his bed, then climbed into the other side. He spent the next few minutes thinking of some suitably diabolical punishment for this little drunken outing. But even as Sephiroth drifted off to sleep himself, he felt a very gentle tug on his hair, then a comfortable and familiar warmth snuggling against his back.

Tags: coi, coi-fic, conflicts of interest, fanfic, ff7
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