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To say that Biggs was a worrier would be an understatement.
To say that Biggs was worried right now would be putting it lightly.
The man paced back and forth in his apartment foyer, only pausing every few moments to part the blinds and look at the building across from his own. Stargazer Heights stood there, currently basked in a dusky hue as the sun began to sink below the horizon. Marle sat outside her room on the ground floor, seemingly enjoying the evening’s breeze as she leafed through a book. Biggs wished he could partake in his own slice of peace; he had been up since dawn mapping out a Shinra facility for an upcoming AVALANCHE operation.
But his heart was beating too fast to relax; his breath coming out too rapidly, his mind spinning too quickly.
Cloud should have been back hours ago.
Biggs continued the repetitious trek through the room, the floorboards creaking in protest as they were met with his unrelenting trudge. Usually, Biggs would be more conscious about causing a ruckus and disturbing his downstairs neighbors, but at the moment he found himself unable to care for something so trivial.
Where was he?
He’d only known the blonde mercenary for a short time, but the man quickly had wormed his way into the small circle of people Biggs truly cared about. Although Cloud could be crass or even straight-up rude at times, there was something so gentle, so fragile, and so raw in his mako stained eyes. Biggs oftentimes found himself wanting to hold Cloud in his arms, whispering soft reassurances to the man that seemed to carry the world on his shoulders.
A metallic clang rang through the dusk, Biggs whipping his head swiftly back to the window, hoping to catch a glimpse of the mercenary returning home. But instead it was Tifa, leaving her room likely for a shift at Seventh Heaven. Biggs suddenly couldn’t take the stuffy panic that had filled his apartment any longer, bursting out his own door. Tifa looked up at the commotion caused by Biggs' anxiety-driven exit as she descended the Stargazer's stairs.
“Biggs?,” she called, crossing the road to meet her comrade.
“Is everything alright?” Her face was etched with worry.
Biggs deliberately avoided the question.
“Have you seen Cloud?,” he asked, looking over her shoulder at Cloud’s door again. Still no sign.
The fear melted off Tifa’s face.
“Oh, did someone not tell you? He left for a mission last night in Sector 4”.
“Yeah I know, but he was supposed to be back by noon,” Biggs retaliated with an exasperated sigh.
Tifa softened her gaze, sensing his panic.
“Sure, but you know how missions go, they can take longer than expected”. She reached out to rub Biggs’ arm reassuringly.
“And this is Cloud we’re talking about. The guy could escape a den of tonberries somehow still breathing”.
Biggs knew his friend was trying to help, but her nonchalant response did nothing to damper his anxiety.
“But what if he’s hurt?,” he shouted, failing to keep his voice level. “Maybe Shinra caught him, or he’s stuck bleeding out somewhere all by himself. Are we just supposed to just sit here, twiddling our thumbs?”
Tifa was unphased by Biggs’ outburst.
“I hear you, but truly, I think he’s fine. He’ll be back soon”.
She gave his arm another gentle squeeze before releasing her grip.
“At least give him a little longer. Panicking and potentially compromising his mission could do more harm than help”.
Biggs knew Tifa was right, even though he didn’t want her to be. He would have run off to the Sector by himself hadn’t he known such actions would be incredibly foolish. While he was a capable fighter, his skills lay more in tactics and scouting; if the gunslinger were to be surrounded, the outcome could be deadly.
Tifa gave her friend another smile.
“Why don’t you join me at Seventh Heaven? Y’know, have a drink to take that edge off, and we can wait for Cloud together”.
Any other day, the idea would be tempting, but Biggs doubted he would be able to sit still in the bar. Plus, he wanted Stargazer Heights to be in view if Cloud returned.
‘When’, he harshly corrected his mind. When he returned.
Tifa sensed his apprehension, turning to leave.
“Just an idea. The offer still stands though. Don’t worry that pretty little head of yours too much,” she teased as she walked away.
“Ha ha,” Biggs shot back sarcastically. He watched her make her way down the road to Seventh Heaven, greeting Barret who sat at the outdoor terrace. She leaned over to whisper something to him, and Barret turned his head towards where Biggs stood. The AVALANCHE member waved to him, Biggs returning the gesture lethargically. The tactician was glad he had turned Tifa down; he loved Barret like a brother but the man knew him too well. A visit to the bar would surely be met with well-meaning, but all the same, chiding remarks about Biggs’ panicked state.
Not knowing what else to do, Biggs returned to his apartment to continue his stakeout. Dusk was rapidly being taken by nightfall, but luckily Stargazer Heights was equipped with lighting along the terraces, so Biggs had no trouble still seeing the mercenary’s door. His anxiety was beginning to make him feel nauseous, so he decided to make himself a piece of buttered toast. Hopefully it would both settle his stomach and distract his mind for at least a moment.
Taking the bread from its bag, he pulled out a bread knife to slice it. Only after beginning the action, Biggs realized his hands shook too hard to do it successfully. A sudden particularly aggressive set of tremors caused the knife to slip from the bread prematurely, and embed itself in his palm.
“Damn it!,” Biggs shouted, quickly grabbing a towel to staunch the blood. Removing it briefly, he saw the cut wasn’t all that deep, but the humility of his blunder was more painful than the sting of the injury itself.
Pulling out a small medical kit, Biggs cleaned and wrapped his hand in gauze. He found his appetite to have completely left him, throwing away the soiled slice and rewrapping the rest of the loaf. Just as he was about to put the kit back away, Biggs faintly made out the soft metallic ringing of footfall.
No way.
Yanking back the blinds fully, he saw Cloud making his way up the steps of Stargazer Heights. As relief washed over him, so much so that he almost felt dizzy, it took a moment for Biggs to realize that the man seemed to sag slightly under the weight of his buster sword, and had a hand pressed firmly to his abdomen.
“That bastard ,” Biggs hissed through his teeth, grabbing the medical kit from the counter and making his way out the door. Cloud was moving slowly, so it was easy for the man to catch up to him before they even reached the ex-SOLDIER’s door.
“Where the hell have you been?!,” Biggs questioned sternly. “And what the hell happened?!”
Biggs couldn’t help the aggression that bled into his tone. Although initially relieved, as the worry left Biggs’ system, it was replaced with anger.
Cloud turned to face his comrade without any urgency. Finally getting a good look at his face, Biggs saw Cloud’s face was smeared with dirt and a light spray of blood. There were dark rings under his eyes, and his usually immaculate spikes were wilting.
“Lay off, why don’t you,” Cloud said blankly, beginning to turn back to his door.
“Lay off? Are you serious? What’s wrong with you?!,” Biggs snapped. He was about to begin a full-on rant, admonishing his friend for both his tardiness and lack of self-preservation, when Cloud winced. The grimace was so subtle that the average person would not have even noticed, but Biggs knew Cloud’s tells well, too used to the blonde hiding injuries.
“Listen, I was just worried is all,” Biggs said, trying to soften his timbre.
He reached for Cloud’s arm, attempting to offer him some measure of stability, as the man looked to be on the brink of collapse.
“Let's just get you into your room, alright?”, Biggs muttered, trying to gently lead Cloud forward. He half expected the blonde to recoil back, knowing he wasn’t the touchiest of people, but to his surprise Cloud almost leaned into his hold. It was only slight, a delicate yet deliberate shift, but the action made Biggs’ heart swell nonetheless.
“I got you buddy,” Biggs reassured, boldly wrapping his arm fully around Cloud’s exposed shoulders. He shockingly still didn’t pull away.
“Not your ‘buddy,’” Cloud mumbled, causing Biggs to smirk. He truly was stubborn till the end.
Cloud struggled to pull his key from his oversized trousers, handing it to Biggs so he could unlock the door. The duo made their way inside, Cloud breaking free from the other man’s clutches to remove the buster sword from his back and collapse on his bed. This was Biggs' first time actually inside Cloud’s apartment, so he took a moment to look around. A couple months ago, Biggs had helped Tifa move her stuff into the unit just a door down. Cloud’s room looked exactly like hers when he had first walked in with all her boxes; sparsely furnished, dreary walls, and lacking even an ounce of personality. He was glad he had brought his own med kit, it seemed the ex-SOLDIER lacked even that bare necessity. The only thing Biggs could even use to identify the apartment as Cloud’s was leaning against the wall; his iconic blade, its slotted materia making it gleam in the dim light.
Biggs realized Cloud had grown eerily silent. Turning back to the man, Biggs saw that he had dozed off, blonde locks strewn across the mattress, his brow still furrowed in its seemingly permanent scowl.
“Cloud,” Biggs said, shaking his shoulder lightly. Cloud’s sapphire eyes snapped open.
“C’mon man, sit up, we need to get you cleaned up”.
“M’fine, go home Biggs,” Cloud murmured. He tried to roll over to lay on his side, when he groaned in pain.
“I’ll go home after you quit making a fool of yourself,” Biggs retaliated. “Now sit up”.
Cloud grumbled in response, but began to push himself into an upright position. Biggs went to extend an arm in aid, but was halted upon receiving a biting glower. In this new position, Biggs could better access Cloud’s wound. There was a tear in his SOLDIER uniform, revealing a slash on Cloud’s upper stomach. The wound wasn’t grave, but it still bled sluggishly, seeping into the knit material of his top.
“Okay we need to take your shirt off first, can you lift your arms up for me?”
Cloud raised an eyebrow, but complied, raising his arms above his head. Biggs rolled the article upwards, sliding it over his spikey head. With the wound now fully exposed, Biggs got set to work. He found a clean towel, turning on the sink so he could run it under some hot water. The stream was taking ages to grow warm, leading Biggs to continuously look over his shoulder to check on Cloud’s wellbeing.
“Still here,” Cloud remarked snidely after he caught him looking for the umpteenth time.
“Can never be too careful with you,” Biggs shot back. The water finally got hot, and he soaked the towel. Returning to his unwilling patient, Biggs sat on the mattress next to Cloud, and met his gaze.
“I’m going to clean the blood off, tell me if I’m hurting you”.
Cloud only grunted in response, and Biggs began to gently wipe the injury clean. The blonde tensed slightly under his touch, but didn’t make a sound as Biggs worked. Finishing, he set the stained towel aside, and reached for the antiseptic spray from his kit. Dousing the wound with the medicine, he then readied a roll of bandages.
“You shouldn’t need any stitches”, Biggs explained as he began to wrap the bandages around the other’s torso. “So long as you don’t act like a jackass, and let yourself properly heal”.
“No promises,” Cloud challenged. Biggs gave him an unimpressed look in response. Tying the loose end off, Biggs rose again to prepare another warm towel. Sitting back down, he raised the towel to Cloud’s face, only for the mercenary to jerk away.
“Give me that, I can do it myself,” Cloud harshly insisted, reaching for the towel.
Biggs stopped the attempted theft by lightly grabbing at Cloud’s wrist with his free hand. He gave the blonde a pleading look. “I know, but let me. Let me feel helpful”.
Something shifted in Cloud’s eyes; a defensive sharpness was stifled, the blue chill of his irises warming.
“Whatever,” Cloud grumbled, turning his face fully towards Biggs, but keeping his eyes fixed on his lap. Biggs noticed that the tips of Cloud’s ears burned a bright pink, smiling at the sight. Biggs raised the soft towel again, and ran it gently over one cheek, and then the other. Cloud’s milky skin was revealed as the grime was lifted, and because the two were so close, Biggs noticed for the first time that the man was lightly freckled.
‘As if he wasn’t already cute enough,’ Biggs thought to himself as he continued. He cleaned his chin, nose, and brow next, a surprising amount of filth being smudged off. He raised a hand to lift Cloud’s bangs to cleanse his forehead, but Cloud drew away slightly.
Biggs shushed the man tenderly. “You’re fine, your bangs are just in the way.”
When Cloud first arrived in the Sector 7 slums, Biggs thought the man would never let his guard down. He was short and cold with most AVALANCHE members; the only person he seemed even slightly comfortable around was Tifa, but he was still often standoffish with her. Nearly everyone would keep their distance after meeting him, but Biggs could tell from the day they first met that Cloud meant no harm by his awkwardly bitter demeanor; the man simply had trouble to connecting with others. If anything, he craved the affection he tried so desperately to push away.
Cloud began to lean more and more into the towel Biggs held to his forehead, so much so that when it was removed, he fell forward to rest his head against Biggs’ chest. Biggs set the towel aside, and began to soothingly run his fingertips up and down the blonde’s arms.
“Are you going to tell me what happened?,” he asked gently.
Cloud let out another sigh, the breath warming the material of Biggs’ shirt.
“Nothing worthy of noting. I successfully obtained the summoning materia from the facility in Sector 4. On my way out, I was ambushed by a group of riot troopers”.
Cloud scoffed at the memory.
“My form was sloppy, one of their bloodhounds got a good swipe at me”.
“Hmmm,” Biggs hummed at the admission. “Seriously, I know you insist on it, but you really should’t be going on these high-stakes missions all on your own”.
He smirked, resting his chin atop Cloud’s golden crown of hair. “I for one would be more than happy to provide backup. So long as you don’t find it too distracting”.
Cloud didn’t respond, but Biggs could feel a smile from his face pressed against his chest. They sat like that for a while, Biggs continuing to ghost his fingers over Cloud’s arms and back. Biggs wished the moment could last forever; feeling calmer than he had in a long time. He could tell that Cloud needed this just as much as he did.
As Cloud started to lean heavier into him, Biggs grabbed his shoulders lightly, pushing him back into an upright position. “As happy as I am to be the lucky guy you decided to cozy up with, we need to get you to bed”. Cloud scowled at him, jerking his head towards the corner of the room, ears bright pink again. Biggs laughed, rising to check the wardrobe for a shirt to replace the ruined one. Opening it, he was met with a messy pile of at least a dozen SOLDIER-issued uniform tops. Where did Cloud even get these from? Taking one, Biggs passed the shirt to the mercenary, who put it on slowly as to not aggravate his newly-dressed wound. Biggs helped ease Cloud down into his bed, tucking the thin duvet around the man.
“Are you done coddling me,” Cloud seethed, looking silly all wrapped up in his blanket.
Biggs leaned down to press a small kiss against his forehead.
“Only if you’re done being a stubborn asshole.”
Cloud’s entire face flushed with color this time.
“Whatever,” he mumbled turning his face into the pillows.
Biggs opened the door to leave, turning back before shutting the door.
“Goodnight, buddy”.
As he closed the door, Biggs smiled as Cloud called back.
“I’m not your ‘buddy’!”