Chapter Text
Curled in a large, pastel colored ball in a fluffy, compact nest, was the napping figure of one fallen military angel; his silver hair had been carefully brushed into shimmering softness was resting over his shoulder, his once quite gaunt and tired visage with his firm nose and soft lips that were always touched with a coy smirk, was instead flush and rounded out at the cheeks, and the smirk became softer and genuine.
From his nose, puffs of breath, a low purring distinct from the snore of a deep sleeper. He lay on his side in as much of a fetal position as he could manage now considering the growing mass at his core, of which his curled in position was meant to both subconsciously hide the vulnerability and offer comfort to himself and the cubs inside.
In this deep restful sleep, Sephiroth was completely unprotected from the outside. He was fat, heavy, and off balance when he allowed himself to sit up and stand. His skin was softer and warmer to the touch, the muscle loosened around his belly, and the his coat, of which was cold and tight on him, was exchanged for a soft sweater. This was not only to offer him physical comfort because of his weight gain, but also for his posterity, as he had always been the shy sort and had to grow accustomed to his chest being exposed, now that breasts (though small) were formed upon the waking of his second sex's full potential, he felt even more uncomfortable with showing so much sensitive skin.
His pants (if he would ever put them on.) were now flowing lounge pants. If they would ever let him out of the cellar, he think he would be wearing colorful house shoes and shuffle around in them. He shuffles around down there enough anyway, he just needs the slippers.
In his dreams, he watches himself from the sidelines, occasionally from outside a window on the bottom floor of an old fashioned house, similar to that he recalls seeing in--
He fidgets slightly, presses his palm into his belly to sooth the fluttering. He was told he shouldn't be feeling any sort of fluttering right now, it's only been a month or so. But he swears he can feel a slight movement, one that tickles a bit, like a breath on the back of his neck. He soothes it with tapping of his fingers.
Anyway. He sees himself shuffling in a day coat around a quaint little house, a bit unsteady on his feet of course, as he's still getting used to having this added weight protruding from himself. He sees an ideal image of pregnancy, all soft colors and warm hues, the walls are decorated with patterned wallpaper and shelves full of books. He sees picture frames on the wall, and a space left purposely empty for a new image of his child.
He sees Cloud, his alpha now, coming home. He is older and his blonde hair captures the sunlight. He's carrying bags of groceries and wears simple villager's clothing, the only thing moderately reminiscent of the city is the ring on his finger. His face is tan, his arms are strong, he's still just below his chin. His eyes are green--
"No, they aren't." He thinks, disrupting his own dream. "They're blue. Sky blue."
He tries again.
...His face is tan, his arms are strong, he's still just below his chin. His eyes are blue. He's happy to see him. When they hug, Cloud is careful, still shy, he flexes to slip out of his hug.
Sephiroth can't help himself. He cracks a smile, then huffs a pleasant chuckle. The dream begins to fade off, his body begins to tingle, the fine hairs on his arms and neck stand. A wonderful scent creeps into the air, it mixes with his own and drowns out the bleakness of the cellar. He can hear the strain of the old wooden stairs. Sephiroth wakes, but despite his eagerness to see his mate, he stays in his napping position, pretending. He wishes to play with Cloud a bit, he always enjoyed the game of chase and chance with him.
"Sephiroth."
The omega stays still, holding his chuckles in. Cloud sighs. He jumps the last two stairs, blushing to himself at his poor attempt to hide his own eagerness to see his omega and check on him, to press his nose to his glands and listen to his belly.
"Seph."
A chuckle. Cloud sighs.
"I know you're awake, I can hear you giggling over there."
Sephiroth sighs too, but this one is joyous and pleasant. He lets his humor take him and laughs just a bit. He's been feeling so playful these days, so light and airy, he swears he's never felt so... blasé about everything.
"Yes, Cloud?" The omega moves his head too look at him, slowly pulling up to face him. With the movement and the nature of his aesthetics, Cloud can't help comparing it to the unraveling of a large white snake, who's scales would be shining under the light just as the omega's hair, who's slow, methodical moves were just as captivating and pulling. Sephiroth's eyes will occasionally take on a sea green then return to their jade tone when he's pleased or sated in some way, and when he's pleased or full, just like that snake, he curls back into a ball and rests.
He looks at Cloud so happily, the alpha feels almost threatened by it. It feels, after all this time still, to be a facade. That this new mated, placeted and nearly submissive state of mind and being that Sephiroth has taken is a false security. That inside of that scheming head of his, he is still planning something evil and wicked, just like the aforementioned snake, who only moved from his coil to strike a mouse.
Yet inside of Sephiroth's head, his mind drew blanks on the topic of revenge or grudges, instead only thinking of his alpha as his ultimate joy at the moment, who could do little wrong against him without reason, and who protected him from those who wished him ill intent. In his own mind, if he knew of Cloud's engendering of a creeping reptile, Sephiroth would imagine himself as more of a little kitty instead; a fluffy white kitty who needed a pink bell on his neck and more time to lounge with his master.
"How are you feeling?" The other man had removed all the harsh, hard pieces of his clothing at the door, as per usual, only needing to remove his boots when he came down, and proceeded to creep his way into the nest. It was built up of pillows, blankets, pretty patterned linens, and whatever fragrant item Cloud would leave with him whether by accident or design. As he settled in beside the older man, he reached into his jacket and produced a cloth handkerchief that was brimming with both the heady perfume of his natural masculine scent and the purposely embossed waft of his scent glands. He gave it to the omega with a slight embarrassed flush. "It must be hard being all alone down here. Sorry."
"I'm fine, Cloud." Sephiroth's voice was leveled and gentle, having little hitch or rasp and sitting in that perfect level between a whisper and projection. Coupled with general depth of his voice, his speech was now more soothing to Cloud's ears than before, where his tone was only made this way to mock him with it's false kindness. He smiled slightly at him, then turned to some rounded corner of the nest, where he started to rub the fragrant fabric alongside the cloth walls and cushioning. He spoke with a warmness as he did so: "And truthfully the solitude is welcomed. It's often quiet and your friends are as kind as they can be given the...situation we've found ourselves..."
Cloud nodded, still watching as the larger man in his flowing clothes and pale colors moved on his hands and knees, his body shifting with the movements of his arms and hands. He retained little shame about tracing the rounding lines of his pale thighs, the mounds of his calves and the soles of his feet, the back up to his jutting posterior and the underwear he wore. He thought of reaching out to pull at his hair for no reason other than to do it and cause the omega to jolt, and he thought of biting him in this unaware state. But Cloud did not, as Sephiroth was speaking again.
"There are some feather touches here and there." There's playfulness in his voice and also palpable excitement. Neither of them ever thought they would be in this situation, together or otherwise, and beneath the general despairing anxiety there was hopeful anxiety, which typically overtook all other feeling if they allowed it to. "Every day, it feels as if my body is reminding me that this is real, and something even more real will be coming soon."
He finally sits again, this time letting out low groan. His back has begun shorting out on him again, a familiar feeling, that brought about the a piercing static in the back of his mind when he tried to piece together a deeper memory than merely: 'an old training injury. Too much power in that move.'
Whenever he attempted to piece together who exactly had caused this still smarting injury, his head would throb so badly he would feel sick. Now that Cloud was present, he allowed him to shut his thoughts off with a soothing touch to his back.
Again, a flutter. A toe touch in his belly. He put his hand where he believes it came from, though logically it hadn't come from anywhere in particular. Cloud pulled forward to catch his eyes, silently asking if there were an issue, but the older man shook his head slightly.
"Nothing. A phantom touch, perhaps."
"And the headache?"
"How did--" He caught himself. With a blush, he bowed his head slightly. "Such a perceptive alpha you are..."
"When you have one, you wince with you left eye and your hand twitches."
Sephiroth was vaguely aware of that. He chuckled, slightly caught off center by his legible body language and how Cloud knew he was coming on to a migraine despite thinking that he had beaten it.
"It's my memories. Or rather, attempting to look further into them. Seems that plenty has been slipping from me these days."
"Since...I--" Cloud didn't know how to phrase it. It still didn't sit well in his gut to detail about their mating. He didn't feel well calling it a joint effort, and felt worse implying it was a single, individual effort. "We--"
"-Yes. More so now I would say. " He smirks at Cloud lovingly. The young alpha's heart skips, but his mind reels from it. "It must be that if it is not about our immediate future, my mind determines it not worthy of pondering."
Moments pass. Eventually, Cloud is massaging all of Sephiroth's back, up to his shoulders and neck with firm circles and thumb presses, telling the other about his work now, what's going on above them, about Shinra and the changed relationship with Rufus. He tells him about future plans for the nearby areas, about his teammates, and their own plans for the future should all go well. Sephiroth listens with great attention and asks very little about this and that, sometimes for clarification, he even offers a slice of sage advice about leadership.
Soon Sephiroth is doting on his alpha, grooming him with his brush and comb, fixing his clothes and checking his body for any small wounds or bruises that might become bothersome without rest. He holds Cloud against his chest, he rubs his cheeks and smooths his hair, humming songs he's heard when the radio is playing and the bar is full, he relays a poem he's read in his solitude, until Cloud's breath is even and his weight shifts.
Cloud doesn't often sleep in their nest. In fact, this was the rare times he felt so calm and receptive to him to desire to stay so long. Before, he would give Sephiroth his token of good faith or a meal, a short interview, and then been off again. So, when moments such as these, where Sephiroth can tuck them in and lay together, he holds it deep in his mind. He tucks it in the growing empty spaces of his memories, not caring if they over shadow his past or paints them with a rosey sheen.
Cloud holds him carefully. Sephiroth let's Cloud hold him, and he always will. Even if Cloud suddenly decides he will no longer come back or entertain him. He'll hold him in his mind. He'll return to Cloud's comforting arms time and time again.