Fic: Mercverse
FF7 A/U. R for swearing. Snippet.
"Oh, for fuck's sake," Tifa said, surveying the damage to her flat. She waved her hands in agitated amazement - or shock - and tried to determine which of the five lazy bodies passed out in the wreckage she would wreak the most vengeance on. "Oh, gods, no. I am not cleaning this up."
The fuckwits didn't even have the grace to wake up. Well, Zack gradually raised a negligent hand and waved - completely doped to the gills and probably frolicking around on Saturn in his spiky stoned head. The OLED screen on his wrist unit flashed a cheerful yellow smiley face at her. Tifa failed to appreciate the gesture, thinning her lips and wondering how in Ifrit's name did the sofa get overturned, the drapes get torn and creatively arranged around Cloud and Vincent's...naked bodies, and various kitchen implements imbedded in the carpet. On the other hand, the bottles decorating most available surfaces and the Bliss sticks scattered in the rest of the space were immediately explainable. She started forward, grim countenance boding no good for the perpetrators.
&
Chaos brutally awoke as he was thrown on the pile of bodies. He landed gracelessly on top of Sephiroth and jabbed Cloud in the stomach with a flying foot, who consequently also woke with a soul-wrenching groan. Chaos flopped halfway off the unwieldy heap and grabbed his head. He became aware of a high screeching noise and curled into a defensive ball.
"...didn't give you goddamn chauvinistic man-pigs door codes so you could destroy the place! And what the hell were you doing with the knives? My carpet! Do you know how much it cost to replace the living room after the last time? You should know! You bunch of incompetent destructive whackjobs pulled the extra contract that paid for it!"
"Braveheart, dude...c'mon, chill out, Teef," Zack piped up, apparently also awake and inexplicably maintaining his mellow high while being squashed flat by Cloud, Vincent, Sephiroth, and Chaos.
Tifa stopped, inhaled, and stared down at Zack with wide eyes. "And what the hell is that supposed to mean!?"
"The bonny wee Scottish highlands! You know...freedom and all that shit," the dark-haired man provided unhelpfully, utterly blissed-out and oblivious to the homicidal look in Tifa's eyes.
Why can't half-demons have the same endurance as cyborgs, Chaos wondered hazily and resentfully. He dismissed the fact of Zack's years of experience with Bliss sticks versus his own limited exposure to pleasure substances as irrelevant.
"Fuck!" Cloud suddenly yelped. "Zack, that's my dick!"
&
"Oh, quit whining. You're the one with the freak healing factor."
"You fucking jabbed me in the fucking crotch with your elbow, Zack! The one with the screws in it!"
"...your elbow...? Never mind, I don't want to know. Get back to work. Bastards." Tifa slammed the door much harder than necessary, in Vincent's hungover and aurally oversensitive opinion. He returned to scrubbing the walls, quietly plotting his revenge on Chaos and Zack for being idiotic enough to declare confidently, a mere eight hours ago, that 'Tifa wouldn't mind.'
"Oh, for fuck's sake," Tifa said, surveying the damage to her flat. She waved her hands in agitated amazement - or shock - and tried to determine which of the five lazy bodies passed out in the wreckage she would wreak the most vengeance on. "Oh, gods, no. I am not cleaning this up."
The fuckwits didn't even have the grace to wake up. Well, Zack gradually raised a negligent hand and waved - completely doped to the gills and probably frolicking around on Saturn in his spiky stoned head. The OLED screen on his wrist unit flashed a cheerful yellow smiley face at her. Tifa failed to appreciate the gesture, thinning her lips and wondering how in Ifrit's name did the sofa get overturned, the drapes get torn and creatively arranged around Cloud and Vincent's...naked bodies, and various kitchen implements imbedded in the carpet. On the other hand, the bottles decorating most available surfaces and the Bliss sticks scattered in the rest of the space were immediately explainable. She started forward, grim countenance boding no good for the perpetrators.
&
Chaos brutally awoke as he was thrown on the pile of bodies. He landed gracelessly on top of Sephiroth and jabbed Cloud in the stomach with a flying foot, who consequently also woke with a soul-wrenching groan. Chaos flopped halfway off the unwieldy heap and grabbed his head. He became aware of a high screeching noise and curled into a defensive ball.
"...didn't give you goddamn chauvinistic man-pigs door codes so you could destroy the place! And what the hell were you doing with the knives? My carpet! Do you know how much it cost to replace the living room after the last time? You should know! You bunch of incompetent destructive whackjobs pulled the extra contract that paid for it!"
"Braveheart, dude...c'mon, chill out, Teef," Zack piped up, apparently also awake and inexplicably maintaining his mellow high while being squashed flat by Cloud, Vincent, Sephiroth, and Chaos.
Tifa stopped, inhaled, and stared down at Zack with wide eyes. "And what the hell is that supposed to mean!?"
"The bonny wee Scottish highlands! You know...freedom and all that shit," the dark-haired man provided unhelpfully, utterly blissed-out and oblivious to the homicidal look in Tifa's eyes.
Why can't half-demons have the same endurance as cyborgs, Chaos wondered hazily and resentfully. He dismissed the fact of Zack's years of experience with Bliss sticks versus his own limited exposure to pleasure substances as irrelevant.
"Fuck!" Cloud suddenly yelped. "Zack, that's my dick!"
&
"Oh, quit whining. You're the one with the freak healing factor."
"You fucking jabbed me in the fucking crotch with your elbow, Zack! The one with the screws in it!"
"...your elbow...? Never mind, I don't want to know. Get back to work. Bastards." Tifa slammed the door much harder than necessary, in Vincent's hungover and aurally oversensitive opinion. He returned to scrubbing the walls, quietly plotting his revenge on Chaos and Zack for being idiotic enough to declare confidently, a mere eight hours ago, that 'Tifa wouldn't mind.'