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The barracks felt quieter than usual.
It wasn’t just because most of the infantry were still on afternoon drills — Cloud had skipped those, claiming he needed to “work on gear maintenance” — but because the hum of activity in the Shinra building seemed far away, muffled. Or maybe that was just the fever.
He sat hunched on his bunk, boots halfway cleaned, the cloth drooping from his fingers like it weighed more than his rifle. His head felt too warm, his muscles too slow, but he sniffled and told himself it was fine it wasn't that bad. Infantrymen didn’t get sick days, not really. He’d managed to wrap himself in a blanket, but it was thin — the kind they issued to infantrymen, scratchy at the edges and not nearly warm enough. If he just kept moving, maybe the ache in his shoulders and the fuzziness in his brain would pass. This wasn’t the first time he’d caught a cold. He could take care of it himself. He always had.
A voice in the back of his mind — quiet, not unkind — reminded him that Zack would scold him for thinking like that. Zack didn’t believe in “just getting through” anything if it meant suffering alone. But Zack wasn’t here, and Cloud didn’t want to be the reason his boyfriend dropped his own work.
The door slid open with its soft hiss.
“Cloud?” Zack’s voice carried its usual warmth and broke through the haze immediately. Deep, warm, but with an edge. The kind of voice that could fill a training hall or turn gentle in a breath.
Cloud looked up, blinking as Zack stepped inside, the SOLDIER’s uniform catching the low light — navy blue and black, still neat even after training, the silver pauldron gleaming. Mako-bright eyes swept the room once before settling squarely on him — the flushed cheeks, the slow movements.
“You’re home early,” Cloud murmured. His voice cracked halfway through.
Zack’s expression tightened, the easy grin replaced by something sharper, almost protective. “You look terrible" Zack’s boots thudded against the floor as he crossed the room, he kneeled so they were eye to eye, and before Cloud could even set down the cloth, Zack’s hand was on his forehead. The leather of his glove was cool for the first second, then peeled away so bare fingers could press more firmly.
“…Cloud,” Zack said, low and serious. “You’re burning up.”
Cloud shrugged, which made his head feel like it swam. “It’s fine. Just a cold.”
“Uh-huh. And you were planning to train tomorrow in this state, right?” Zack’s tone was half-joke, half-warning. Then his brows drew in tighter, the kind of look that made Cloud feel both seen and cornered. “Why didn’t you call me?”
“I didn’t want to bother you,” Cloud mumbled.
That got him the look. The one Zack reserved for when he couldn’t decide whether to hug someone or shake them. “Spike… you’re my boyfriend. You can’t bother me.” He pulled back only to grab a fresh blanket from his own locker, his movements brisk but careful, as if taking care of Cloud were no less urgent than a mission briefing.
The sound of running water came from the small sink at the far end. A moment later, Zack was back with a glass of water and a towel dripping just enough to be cold. He draped it over Cloud’s forehead, then eased him down against the pillow.
Cloud’s mind fought between embarrassment and relief. He hadn’t been fussed over much in his life. It felt strange to have someone notice when he was hurting, stranger still to have someone stay.
Cloud let him, because honestly, his body was too tired to resist. And maybe — just maybe — it felt… nice.
Zack sat on the edge of the bunk, one arm sliding around his shoulders in a loose, protective hold. “I’m not leaving tonight.” “So you’re gonna drink this water, lie down, and let me take care of you.” he said, and his tone left no room for argument. “We’ll get you better. End of story.”
“…Bossy,” Cloud muttered, his voice already softer.
Zack’s smile curved easily and was warm again. “Yeah. And you love it.”
Cloud closed his eyes. Maybe he did. The heat in his cheeks wasn’t just from the fever anymore. And as Zack’s hand rested lightly against his temple, the steady, calm presence anchored him in a way nothing else in Shinra could.
For once, Cloud didn’t feel like he had to be the one carrying the weight.
Hours later, the barracks were still. Even the usual hum of the ventilation felt muted. Cloud stirred under the extra blanket, not from fever dreams but from the quiet awareness that someone was watching over him.
It took a moment for his eyes to adjust, but the outline of Zack’s silhouette was impossible to mistake — broad shoulders, the restless bounce of one knee, the faint tilt of his head as if listening for the slightest change in Cloud’s breathing.
“You’re still awake,” Cloud murmured, voice thick with sleep.
Zack’s head turned instantly, mako eyes catching the dim light. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to wake you.”
“…Why aren’t you sleeping?”
“Couldn’t. Not while you’re like this.” Zack moved to sit beside him again, the mattress dipping under his weight. “You’re more important than any mission, Spike.”
Cloud’s brow creased faintly. “…You don’t have to watch me all night.”
“I know,” Zack said quietly. “I want to.”
Cloud didn’t answer, but the faint, unguarded way his expression softened in sleep felt like answer enough.
The barracks clock ticked past midnight. Most of Shinra was asleep, but Zack’s eyes were wide open, fixed on the pale curve of Cloud’s cheek illuminated by the faint glow from the hallway light.
Cloud’s breathing was slow and even now, the fever pulled him into a deeper rest. The blanket had slipped slightly, revealing the pale skin of his collarbone. Zack reached out, pulling off his glove to let his bare fingers trace lightly along the side of Cloud’s face, down the faint line of his jaw. Still warm, but not as burning as before.
“You’re stubborn, you know that?” Zack whispered, his thumb brushing over Cloud’s temple. “Trying to take care of yourself when you’ve got me around… ridiculous.”
He took Cloud’s hand gently in his own, rubbing slow circles over the back with his thumb. Adjusting the blanket again, Zack tucked it up around Cloud’s shoulders until he looked bundled enough to withstand a Midgar winter.
Leaning in, Zack brushed a few stray strands of blond hair from his forehead. “You’ve got no idea how much I care about you, Spike.”
Cloud shifted faintly in his sleep, brow smoothing as if the words had reached him somewhere deep.
Zack stayed there, tracing idle patterns on Cloud’s forearm, watching the slow rise and fall of his chest. Watching over him wasn’t a chore. It was a promise.
Cloud woke to the smell of something that definitely wasn’t Shinra’s usual mystery cafeteria food.
Blinking against the soft morning light filtering through the blinds, he slowly registered two things: first, his fever haze had dulled to a faint warmth, and second… Zack wasn’t beside the bed.
For half a second, that absence made his chest tighten — until he heard a cheerful, slightly off-key humming coming from the small kitchenette.
“…Zack?” His voice was still a little rough, but not nearly as bad as last night.
Zack popped his head around the corner with a grin that could probably power Midgar’s entire Sector 5 reactor. “Morning, Spike! Stay in bed!”
Cloud opened his mouth to argue, but Zack pointed a spatula at him like a commander issuing orders. “Nope. Not a word. You’re getting the full Zack Fair Care Package today.”
A few minutes later, Zack appeared at the bedside balancing a tray: steaming miso broth (borrowed from the nicer SOLDIER kitchen upstairs), scrambled eggs slightly burnt on one edge, sliced fruit arranged in a lopsided heart, a steaming cup of peppermint tea, and — inexplicably — a small mug of hot cocoa with extra marshmallows.
Cloud stared at it. “…You went all out.”
“Of course I did,” Zack said, setting the tray across Cloud’s lap like it was priceless cargo. “Step one of the Care Package: a breakfast good enough to bribe you into resting.”
“And step two?” Cloud asked, already breathing in the fresh, minty steam from the tea.
“Step two: medication and a hydration lecture.” Zack handed over a couple of pills and another glass of water. “Step three: tucking you in so aggressively that you couldn’t get up even if you wanted to.”
Cloud rolled his eyes, but the corners of his mouth betrayed him with the smallest smile. “You’re ridiculous.”
Zack leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Yeah. But I’m your ridiculous boyfriend.”
For a moment, Cloud didn’t answer — just looked at him over the rim of the mug, taking in the slightly rumpled hair, the faint circles under Zack’s eyes from clearly staying up most of the night, and that endless, unshakable warmth in his gaze.
“…Thanks,” Cloud said quietly.
Zack’s grin softened into something smaller but no less bright. He couldn’t help it; his hand wandered, brushed over Cloud’s cheek, down to his jaw, traced the line of his throat where his pulse beat steady “Anytime, Spike. Always.”
Zack eased under the blanket too, sliding in close so Cloud could soak up his warmth. The heat seeped into both of them, and with every soft breath Cloud took, Zack’s own shoulders loosened a little. They shared it, knees and shoulders pressed together, the warmth wrapping around them like a shield. Outside, the city moved on without them — but here, there was tea, snacks, and Zack’s arm draped over him like the most natural thing in the world.
By the afternoon, Cloud was feeling noticeably better — not fully recovered, but steady enough to at least sit up without his head swimming.
That didn’t mean Zack was letting him go anywhere.
“Okay, Spike,” Zack said, hauling a thick fleece blanket out of his locker like he was revealing a legendary weapon. “We are officially entering Phase Two of recovery.”
Cloud gave him a look. “…You have phases?”
“Of course!” Zack dropped the blanket over Cloud’s shoulders and then sat down beside him, tugging it so it covered them both. “Phase One: food and hydration. Phase Two: maximum comfort. Phase Three: victory nap.”
Before Cloud could respond, Zack was up again, bustling around the small room with SOLDIER efficiency. Within minutes, the foot of the bed was a miniature supply depot: a big bowl of popcorn, a smaller bowl of pretzels, a plate stacked with chocolate chip cookies, and — because Zack thought of everything — a thermos of hot cocoa and a teapot of fresh peppermint tea. Two mismatched mugs sat ready, steam curling into the air.
Cloud raised an eyebrow. “Are you planning to feed the entire infantry?”
“Nope,” Zack said cheerfully, plopping back down beside him. “Just you. But I like to have options.”
The little TV in the corner flickered to life, its glow painting soft light across Zack’s face as he flicked through Shinra’s catalogue until he landed on something bright and ridiculous — a slapstick comedy that had no business existing in the same world as SOLDIER training drills.
As the opening credits rolled, Zack pulled the blanket tighter around them, scooting close until their shoulders touched. He poured tea into Cloud’s mug, the scent of fresh mint drifting between them, then slid the cookies within arm’s reach. “Your only job right now,” Zack said, voice mock-serious, “is to stay warm, stay hydrated, and laugh at the dumb jokes.”
Cloud sipped the tea, warmth settling in his chest and seeping through the blanket where Zack’s side pressed against his. “You’re kind of overdoing it.”
Zack grinned. “No such thing.”
Halfway through the movie, Cloud found himself leaning against Zack’s side without even thinking about it. The blanket was heavy and warm, the snacks within easy reach, and every time he shifted, Zack adjusted the blanket or refilled his mug without missing a beat.
And maybe it was the fever easing, or maybe it was just Zack being Zack — steady, present, all-in — but Cloud couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so… safe. Like the world outside Shinra’s walls could wait.
Zack glanced down, catching Cloud’s relaxed expression. “See? Phase Two’s working already.”
Cloud gave a quiet huff of laughter. “…Yeah. Guess it is.”