Work Text:
The ear-screeching boom rattles the window panes, startling Cloud out of his bed like a rocket.
His entire room is washed with an eerie white light, but he’s sure it’s night. And then the light fades as the crashing, metal creaking noise comes to a shuddering stop.
Cloud swears for courage and grabs his rifle. He’s in shorts and a ratty shirt, but goddamn it, he’s not going to leave this be. Cloud stalks down the field to the point he sees a trench had been dug into the earth. It leaves trees shattered at the trunk, some uprooted completely.
The trench grows deeper and wider until he encounters two metal pods, much larger than his own height. There’s some sort of opaque screen towards the top, but he refrains from touching.
Could space objects have deadly diseases?
He doesn’t get to make a choice as the pod thing hisses and cracks open. Something is nestled inside, something with feathers and long appendages.
The thing with feathers unfurls and spots a human-like face. The body begins to slump and collapse.
On instinct, Cloud reaches out and catches the body, but is unprepared for the weight. He tumbles to the ground, stomach cradling what he believes is the head.
And just like that, the entire creature changes. Starting from where he’s touching him, his coloring changes to something like pale flesh and long, long silver hair. The feathers impossibly recede into his skin as the tentacles seem to disappear somewhere.
Now he just has a tall, naked man laying on him.
Cloud tilts his head towards the night sky. In the countryside, there’s still a good trace of the stars. He wonders which one they came from.
This is more of Midgar’s IDEA alley, who have the resources and diplomats to interact with foreign people.
Still, as backwater and alone as he is, Cloud can’t find it in himself to leave them alone. Cloud leaves the man on the ground and comes back with his beat up truck. He manages to haul the some-six foot alien onto the bed of the truck and goes to the other pod.
Cautiously, because who knows what it can do, he runs his hand over the pod. In the center, he must have pressed a button, because it slides open like the first did.
Another alien, different from the first one, falls from the pod which is tilted forward precariously.
He barely manages to catch the alien despite the account that it’s slightly shorter than the first one. This one doesn’t change, staying the same as he is. Humanoid with canine features.
Great. Now he has two unconscious men in his truck bed, one naked and one clothed in what seems to be just pants.
It takes two hours to transport them, wipe them down of dirt, and settle them on the floor with the meager blankets he has. They are simply too large for his little worn couch and his bed.
Finally, he can sleep.
And when he wakes, it’s almost like waking from a dream.
Cloud’s back in his bed, sunlight streaming through his faded blue curtains. Fenrir has moved up from the dog bed to the foot of his own, holding the lower half in a messy sprawl.
It feels strangely peaceful.
Until he notices the silver-haired stranger staring over him. For a second, Cloud doesn’t even register how close he is, close enough that he can see the little flecks of bright green swimming in his irises, like lily pads in a pond.
And then the stranger leans down and presses his lips against Cloud’s, tongue swiping across his in one quick fashion.
It is oddly comforting, homecoming squashed in a single feeling. He’s warm, he’s comfortable, and he’s home. With a stranger. That feels nice. Who is kissing him.
Reality comes crashing down and Cloud shoves at him, scrambling backwards so fast he falls off the bed. He touches his lips, face flaming. “You!”
“It is you,” he says, voice lyrical and lilting. He tilts his head like an owl, not quite human and still somewhat endearing somehow. “You feel…right.”
“You can’t just kiss strangers,” Cloud exclaims, refusing to believe he is nearing a dangerously high pitch. He hopes he isn’t housing the kind of aliens that partake in human pets.
“We are not strangers,” he says, confused. He runs his tongue over his lips, tasting, thinking. “You are ours. Did you not feel it? Do you not feel it now?”
“Feel what?” Cloud stands up, feeling a little vulnerable in his little shorts and stretched-out shirt. It’s hot, alright? “I’m not yours, you- I mean, you know what? Nevermind.”
Aliens were essentially a culture he would never be able to understand. He drops it, thinking it’s just something along their culture.
The stranger cocks his head the other way, silver hair falling over his very naked shoulder, Cloud could only fit him in his baggiest sweatpants. “Hmm, what is your name?”
“Cloud.” He jerks his head up. “And you?”
“I am Sephiroth,” he states. He waits for something.
Whatever he’s waiting for, it’s interrupted by Cloud’s stomach. It gives a loud grumble, which makes Cloud flush. The flaming heat has died down to his ears. “Look, I’m- Are you hungry? I’m gonna cook breakfast. You want some?”
Sephiroth looks delighted as he takes a step closer. “You would cook for us?”
“You’re my guest,” Cloud replies, confused. Do they not do this kind of hospitality? “Let’s go check on your friend. And get you a shirt.”
“Our mate,” Sephiroth corrects, eagerly following after him. He moves with snake-like grace, early silent in his haste to follow Cloud to rummage through his drawers. “Do you not approve of our musculature?”
“What? I- Well, yes, but it’s not appropriate here,” Cloud explains awkwardly, choosing to believe this is just a culture difference.
“Oh.” Sephiroth stands and closes his eyes. Black liquid seeps from his skin, sliding down pale flesh until it falls off and hangs into something akin to robes. Very gauzy, iridescent robes. With a lot of skin. Cloud drops his gaze, refusing to linger on his open chest. “Is this better?”
“Uh,” Cloud says intelligently. “Let’s, um, go wake your mate.”
“Our mate,” Sephiroth repeats, a little more emphasis on the former word.
Did they have different pronouns? Cloud wonders this as he doesn’t correct Sephiroth. The other one is still on the floor, but sprawled in a messy sleeping position. He gives a snort, a snore, and a mumble. Sephiroth huffs. He kneels beside the other one and shakes him gently. “Zackariah.”
Cloud leaves him to wake the other while he makes breakfast. The first thing he does is run back upstairs to change—Realizing with a sheepish thought, that he had been in shorts and no shirt (given up for the other one).
The second thing he does is gather eggs from the chickens. He manages to collect a decent amount of eggs and pulls some vegetables from his little garden. An omelet, he decides, as he picks bell peppers and uproots onions.
He’s just about to plate the messy omelet (it’s more like scrambled eggs, really) when they enter his kitchen. The black-haired, presumably Zackariah, bounds into the kitchen like an oversized puppy.
“Hello,” he exclaims, before planting his lips right on Cloud’s. He’s much more enthusiastic than Sephiroth, sharp teeth clashing and lips brushing over more than just one place. Something in his chest thrums, sending his heart into overdrive. Zackariah pulls his head back slightly, but still close enough for Cloud to note how fat his pupils are, nearly taking over his iris.
If this is the greeting for their kind, Cloud makes a note never to visit their planet. He's not sure he can handle all this.
“Hi.” Cloud gasps, brain stuttering back to life. “Uh.”
“You’re right.” Zackariah sighs, pulling Cloud closer to his chest. He hums, a deep thrumming sound emitting deep within. His fluffy tail wags. “He feels right.”
“He is,” Sephiroth says, sounding somewhere close to his ear. “Cloud.”
“Uh huh,” Cloud says, leaning his head against that very muscular chest. Strange. It’s a warm summer morning, but he never wants to let go.
The smell of burning toast pulls him away. He darts under his arms and to the pan, which is smoking with two pieces of slightly charred toast.
“Do you eat these?” he asks in a mumble.
“We will eat anything you give us,” Sephiroth replies smoothly, accepting the plate he is handed. The two of them look at his charred toast and messy eggs like it’s gourmet food. It’s actually a little unfair how good they look with questionably plated food in hand.
“We’ll make something for you too,” Zachariah says reverently, lifting his gaze to Cloud with the same look. He looks away, feeling the flush remain in his ears. If they stay here, he has a funny feeling his ears will be forever pink.
“Don’t worry about it,” Cloud mumbles, busying himself with his own plate. There’s already water and coffee at the table since he’s not sure if they drink coffee.
The way they eat should be illegal. They pick at their food delicately with some sort of veneration in their movement, which doesn’t make sense since it’s just food. But they eat and he sees something like approval flickering across their face and something within him is pleased.
When they’re done and all that is left is coffee (Sephiroth seemed to take a liking to tea instead), Cloud begins.
“Where are you from?”
“A planet called Edge,” Zackariah says first. He makes eye contact easily and often, much to Cloud’s dismay. He’s not used to being looked at like that. “Have you heard of it?”
The name rings a very faint bell. As a deliveryman, he hears all sorts of things. “Kind of.”
“It’s beautiful,” Zackariah says dreamily. “Our other mates, Genesis and Angeal; they grow beautiful plants, trees that twist and grow heavy with Banoran apples.”
He speaks more about it, the flora and fauna; the food and the drink; and most of all, their mates.
Genesis, quick in his temper but soft in his heart, with hair as bright as the apples Cloud had served with breakfast. Zackariah (you must call me Zack, Cloud!) Angeal, large and intimidating but soft and warm. He could probably go on and on, but Sephiroth stops him.
“They will adore you,” Sephiroth says. “You will see.”
Mystified at the certainty in his voice, Cloud just sets it aside as another nuance to their culture.
They table the conversation and move on to more pressing matters. While Sephiroth examines the damage to their pods, Zack decides to help Cloud with his chores.
“I will help,” he says, dogging his heels even as Cloud claims he would rather his guest rest. “Please?”
It’s a wickedly effective look. Cloud stumbles in his stride, eyes wide at that…that. Zack smiles. “What are you doing now?”
“Uh.”
Zack urges him to show him the ropes of gardening, to which he is surprisingly adept at. He knows almost all the plants Cloud has, mentioning his adoptive (I don’t know how to say it in your language, but this is closest) sister back home was a gardening fanatic alongside Angeal. He clips the ripe fruits and vegetables and places them in the harvest basket.
Sephiroth comes back as they’re folding laundry. He hadn’t wanted Zack to do the laundry, and the feeling only intensifies when Zack folds three of his underpants in quick succession.
He holds up the third one, a faded blue with yellow chocobos. He grins at Cloud. “Cute.”
Cloud, without thinking (he seems to be doing a lot of that lately), tosses a shirt at his head. “Don’t comment about my clothes when you’re half-naked.”
He’d taken Cloud’s borrowed shirt off, revealing a slightly scarred, tanned chest. Cloud hopes Zack hadn’t noticed him staring.
“Do you like it?” he asks, seemingly fishing for compliments, but Cloud can tell he’s genuinely asking for some reason.
Somehow, for whatever reasons he chooses to appear, Sephiroth glides through the doorway, fully intent on hearing the answer.
“You’re objectively attractive,” Cloud says meekly. He can’t quite bring himself to say it outright, but it seems Sephiroth is not satisfied with the answer.
“But do you find our bodies pleasing?” he asks, digging the question in. He smiles slyly. “Yes or no, dear Cloud.”
Reluctantly, he nods. How thick-faced were these aliens??
They both look immensely proud, so he doesn’t feel too bad. Do they feel ugly on their planet? Here, they might as well be gods. Cloud wishes he could say he was exaggerating.
Well, he’ll just point them in Rufus’ direction and they’ll be on their merry way.
***
Somehow, they convince Cloud the best option was to stay at his house. He doesn’t know how they do it because it’s certainly not their charming personalities, their glorious bodies, or their oddly endearing actions.
Not at all.
Zack talks a lot about their mates they’ve left on Edge. With their ship damaged, the two escape pods had crash-landed on Earth, leaving only damaged metal and no communication.
At least that’s what Cloud thinks, but Sephiroth reassures him that they will come. He says so with such confidence that Cloud really has no choice but to believe it.
For now, they await their arrival at Cloud’s humble abode with his six chickens and his little garden of mismatched veggies. They end up establishing a routine that has three weeks flying by, somehow slotting themselves into his routine as easily as a duck to water.
Under Zack’s hand, his garden flourishes. He’s taken to growing plants from the fruits Cloud buys from the stores. He doesn’t ask how they could begin to sprout in a matter of hours, just takes it as it is.
Sephiroth ends up taking over cooking with astonishing talent. He spends an hour tasting all the spices in his rack and the herbs in his garden and suddenly he’s whipping out culinary delights that would make a Michelin star chef weep. And he always has Cloud try something, every day three times a day, if not more. Not that he’s complaining.
“Try,” Sephiroth urges, holding out a spoonful of something. It’s pale pink and airy-looking, which makes him believe it’s something sweet. It’s not. “Tell me how it tastes.”
It’s delicious, and Cloud tells him so. He licks the residual cream off his lips, savoring the taste. It’s something a little bit on the peppery side and much more flavorful than he’d expect from something so light.
Cloud’s so busy thinking, he doesn’t notice Sephiroth coming closer to swipe his tongue against his lower lip. He licks his lips, eyes on Cloud the entire time.
“It is,” he agrees, “delicious.”
Unbelievable. Cloud escapes the kitchen before he can burst a blood vessel. This is hard for his heart.
Zack is just as bad, if not worse. While Sephiroth is sly and smooth in his actions, Zack is messy and jagged but in a way that seems to click with Cloud. However, he’s much more forward.
Zack pulls Cloud left and right, wanting to be shown this and that. Cloud is all too eager to show him, much to his chagrin. When he takes Zack to meet chocobos for the first time, he makes the connection to Cloud’s hair and the butt end of the chocobo and asks (with a genuine tone), “Are they your relatives?”
Cloud chokes on that, because he’s expecting a joke, not a genuine question. Wanting to mess with him a bit, he tells him yes, they are his relatives.
“I love Cloud,” Zack tells one chocobo seriously. “Please give us your blessing.”
“Zack,” Cloud exclaims. He tells him he was joking.
Zack laughs and shrugs it off. “Where are your sire and dam? I’d like to meet them.”
Cloud shrugs. “Never knew my dad. My mom…she’s gone now.”
Zack’s smile drops. “Oh.” He struggles to say something, resorting to a few words in his language that he both understands and cannot, and then pulls Cloud’s head to his forehead. He has to squat slightly, but Cloud gets the reason behind it.
Emotion rushes through Cloud’s head, something almost like I’m sorry for your loss, but in so many more words.
“Oh,” Cloud says simply after he pulls away. “It’s okay. It’s been a while.”
“You are not alone now,” Zack says, stepping forward to wrap Cloud in a tight hug. “We are here for you now. You never have to be alone again.”
Sudden, unexpected tears crowd at the edge of his eyes, threatening to fall. He’s going to miss them when they’re gone, Cloud realizes as he accepts the hug.
***
Dealing with Reno is like dealing with a handful of feral cats. Awful, painful, and useless to try.
“Package for the boss?” he asks idly, waving his mag-rod around. Cloud refrains from rolling his eyes. Reno has a tendency to jolt people for snark—Ironically. “Hope it passes inspection.”
“Just wait for Vincent before you do anything,” Cloud says, sighing. “Please.”
Reno drapes himself over Cloud’s shoulders like an oversized cat. An ugly red rat-tailed cat. Thankfully, before he can open his mouth and speak, Vincent glides into the room.
His crimson eyes find Cloud’s annoyed face. A vague twitch of his lips gives away the barest trace of amusement. “Reno, refrain from harassing the courier.”
“He likes it,” Reno drawls, but he slides right off. Even Reno has enough self-preservation to stay on Vincent’s good side. Not just because he’s a scarily excellent Turk, but because he’s also chummy with Veld, who is unofficially known to see Vincent like he carries stars.
“Got a package for your partner,” Cloud says, hefting the little package up. It’s on the smaller side, but it’s packing with a bit of weight.
“I’ll bring you to him,” Vincent says, which raises his eyebrows a little. Direct delivery is unusual for the Turks. Still, he’s getting paid handsomely, so he just goes along with it.
Vincent leads him some dozen floors up until they’re standing at a staggering height above the Plate, and then he leads him to the door.
There’s shouting. He grimaces, then blanches when Vincent opens the door to usher him in.
Veld is off to the side, silent and deadly as he lurks in the dim room. He glances at Vincent once before jerking his head in a minuscule come in.
There’s a redhead and ebony-haired male in the room along with Rufus and Veld. He thinks they are human until he realizes they both bear wings. The redhead has one black wing on the left side and the other has two ivory wings that are both on the right side.
The former is doing most of the shouting at Rufus Shinra, some in some fantastical language while the latter seems to be placating the man—Attempting to anyway.
Cloud’s not paid enough to interfere or listen into anything alien-wise, but something Sephiroth and Zack had mentioned a few times resurfaces.
Quietly, too quiet for humans but just enough for their kind, he says, “Genesis?”
It’s like watching a bomb go off. The redhead whirls around, black wing flaring like a predatory display. His face is twisted with anger, teeth bared. “How do you know that?”
“Sephiroth told me about you,” Cloud explains simply.
The bomb defuses. Everyone in the room turns to him with an unnerving stare. He gathers up some courage before addressing the male-looking foreigner with double wings. “Are you by any chance Angeal Hewley?”
“Yes? How did you-”
“You smell like Sephiroth,” the redhead points out, eerily calm now. He comes closer in an elegant stride. Cloud holds his ground, but his heart races against his wishes. “And Zackariah. You’ve had extensive contact with them. You understand us.”
“That's because they’re at my house,” Cloud points out, a little too aware of five peoples’ eyes growing wide. “Crashed right into my field a little over a month ago.”
The redhead, Genesis, if he remembers right, blows out a stream of something that seems rather rude. Not words in Common, but he understands somehow. Cloud gets the gist that it has something to do with Sephiroth’s physical contact.
The other man places a hand on his shoulder. He looks at Cloud with a much more gentle look than his counterpart. “Will you allow us to see them?”
It takes a second on why Angeal said it like that. Then it clicks.
“Oh, I’m not with IDEA,” Cloud explains awkwardly. He hands the package, that he just remembers he’s holding, over to Veld. “I’m just a courier. You can come get them now if you want.”
Angeal smiles, relieved. He’s, indeed, a muscular man—tall and imposing—but he doesn’t quite feel scary. He feels almost homey, warm and inviting. “We’d really appreciate seeing them.”
It takes some finagling for Rufus to let two alien royalty (what the fuck) go without some sort of entourage (read Turks), but they let them go after Cloud privately points out spying was not the way to get into their good graces.
Angeal and Genesis fly above him while he takes Fenrir back to the house. The moment he parks, the door flings open and Zack bounds right through with a beam. “Cloud- Oh!”
He moves so fast, Cloud blinks and he’s gone. Zack’s sandwiched between Angeal and Genesis sobbing and laughing and speaking in whatever language they have. Sephiroth strides out from the door with joy clear on his usually impassive face.
It feels illegal to witness this moment so Cloud skirts inside, intent on giving them a moment. He fiddles with some sandwiches and questionable scrambled eggs before slicing some nectarines. Someone barrels back inside and throws his arms around his waist.
“Mm, that smells good,” Zack mumbles against his neck. He rubs his cheek against Cloud’s temple like an over affectionate cat. “What is that?”
“A nectarine,” Cloud explains, handing him a slice. It’s on the firm and unsweetened side, just the way he likes it. Tifa likes it mushy and sweet. It’s the first time Zack will have had one. He thinks. His garden knowledge is interesting. He knows what an eggplant is, but he doesn’t know what a snow pea is.
Zack crunches at it, flashing sharp canines as he does so. His eyes flicker between blue and green, before settling on blue. He throws Cloud a thumbs up. “I like it!”
“Me too,” Cloud says, popping one in his mouth. He slices two more oddly shaped slices and nibbles around the core before picking up another one. This one is a little on the mushy side, spilling juice around his fingers as he slices into it.
He pops a slice into his mouth without thinking, reaching up to swipe away the juice that slides down his chin.
Zack reaches for it first, rough tongue swiping the juice making a run down his neck. Cloud stiffens, refusing to turn his head as he continues slicing. Zack lowers his head, a sly grin on his face. “I like this one too.”
“Uh huh,” Cloud says intelligently. He ducks his head, slipping out of his hold. “I’m gonna- gonna- go, um.”
“Go nowhere, I hope,” Genesis exclaims as he glides into the kitchen. The kitchen is much smaller now that the five of them have been crammed in. Two individuals have wings, which count as a collective total of four people just for those appendages.
Genesis seems pleased and calm, nowhere near his anger earlier in the day. “We have lots to discuss, many thanks to be given, little bird. But I’m the kind to practice pleasure first and business later.”
With that, Genesis swoops right up to him, cups his face, and sweeps him right off his feet with a heart stopping kiss. It’s as passionate as Zack’s and as slippery as Sephiroth’s, who is the kind to savor slowly.
Good Gaia, he’s going to die. Cloud gasps for breath when Genesis reluctantly pulls away. He sighs happily, oblivious to Cloud’s plight. “Oh, how wonderful. The Goddess has blessed us once more.”
Cloud stands there and stares, brain ceasing to function. He looks at Angeal, who’s already bullying his way beside Genesis with a look of intent. Cornered by the counter and their eager eyes, Cloud stammers out, “Are you going to greet me the same way too?”
“If I have your permission,” Angeal says sweetly. “I would like to.”
“Your partners didn’t ask for it,” Cloud states, though he’s not at all offended. Delighted even, though he’ll never admit it.
“My partners would do well to learn some restraint,” Angeal replies. As he sticks himself in front of Cloud, he realizes Angeal is just like Zack. Or rather, Zack is just like Angeal. Not in their looks, for they are very different, but they are also very similar.
Seeming to know his mind is wandering (skipping in a field of flowers) Angeal asks again, “Do I have your permission, Cloud?”
“Go for it,” Cloud ends up saying, but he thinks he might have mumbled something else.
Angeal definitely goes for it. He crowds Cloud’s space and smooths one large hand over his torso. The other hand cradles the back of his head. Cloud can sense the sheer strength in the thick cords of muscles, but all he feels is gentleness.
And between all four of them, Cloud feels a strange sort of resonance. Initially, he had thought it was just Zack and Sephiroth, but having Genesis and Angeal do the same thing, he feels it strike something deep in his chest. It feels right somehow. Like a puzzle piece clicking in amongst thousands of pieces.
“Is this how your kind greets people,” Cloud asks, dazed. He has to hold the counter to keep his balance, but Angeal is really doing all the work on keeping him upright. He seems smug as he helps Cloud over to a chair.
‘Help’ is a strong word. Really, he picks up Cloud (Gaia, those muscles) and sits him on the chair as gently as a bird.
“Certainly not!” Genesis sniffs, looking scandalized. “My goodness, you think we just go about touching anyone like that?”
“Sephiroth gave me a surprise the first time we met,” Cloud points out, avoiding the fact they technically first met when he was unconscious.
“And you never told me why you did that?” Angeal asks, aghast, turning to Sephiroth.
Sephiroth blinks, baffled. He turns to Cloud. “I was sure you knew.”
“I did not!”
“And you didn’t tell him either,” Angeal guesses, turning to Zack, who gives a sheepish shrug.
“I was sure you knew,” Sephiroth repeats, looking more confused by the minute. “You fed us, offered us residence and clothing.”
“You’re a guest, of course I fed and clothed you!”
“You touched my hair,” he continues, much more frazzled than Cloud’s ever seen Sephiroth. Genesis watches this like a tennis match, an intrigued look on his face. Sephiroth’s face softens. “You accepted our touch and food.”
“Anyone would accept if they all looked like you,” Cloud splutters, then realizes what he said. He ducks his head at Genesis’ leer and attempts to defend himself, “You have to be blind to not notice how good you look.”
With Angeal in charge of the discussion, they settle a few things. First, (and Cloud is horrified to know now) they are apparently royalty, with Sephiroth as the reigning king and the other three as his warrior consorts. Sephiroth neglected to tell him that little tidbit after saying what planet they were from.
The second thing that Angeal divulges is the fact the people of Edge have (Angeal struggles to find the word in Common, so this is what he says) soulmates. They find them through a resonance that naturally emits from their bodies.
“But I’m fully human,” Cloud points out.
“Every living thing has Resonance, sweet one,” Genesis says, running the back of his hand across his cheek. He had wanted to feed Cloud nectarine slices, but he put his foot down on that. Now he eats one of Cloud’s poorly put-together sandwiches. “People of Edge have a stronger feel for Resonance, so that must be why Sephiroth felt so drawn to you.”
“Are you not all from Edge?” Cloud asks, curious.
“Sephiroth is the only Edge in the room. Genesis and I come from Banora,” Angeal states, and then gestures to Zack.
“I’m from Gongaga!” Zack exclaims excitedly. He had gravitated over to Cloud exactly two minutes after Angeal had set him down.
Cloud snorts. Zack grins knowingly, tilting his head. His ears, despite being pointed, have a little flop to them. “What’s so funny?”
“Sounds kind of backwater.”
“I don’t know what that means, but like Gaia is any better,” Zack exclaims in good nature.
“It really is,” Genesis says without any heat. “But where on Gaia is the question. I understand your planet has different sections with names and separate cultures.”
“Nibelheim,” Cloud admits, to his chagrin. Genesis keeps poking a fruit slice at his mouth, so he gives in and takes a nibble. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up.”
They exchange pleasantries, dancing around the whole subject of soulmates. The unspoken question at the end goes unanswered as they try to figure out who is sleeping where because his house is tiny.
“No need to cram,” Genesis says, smiling. “We brought Phoenix, so we’ll all fit.”
“Phoenix,” Cloud echoes. “What is that?”
Genesis’ smile widens, baring strangely too-white teeth. “We’ll be glad to show you.”
And what a show it is. Phoenix ends up being a beautiful crimson airship that had followed Genesis and Angeal from the Shinra tower to Cloud’s abode.
“How did I miss that?” he asks, baffled, craning his neck to look up. It’s all smooth sailing as it touches down, not a single plant ruffled. Unnatural and impressive.
“The highest degree of camouflage,” Genesis says proudly. He presses a gloved hand on the smooth metallic surface and the whole face ripples. The metal liquifies and reforms into stairs, lights embedded into the floor. He bows, hand gesturing towards the stairs. “After you, my dear.”
Before Cloud can take a step in, Zack gets too excited and sweeps him off his feet. “Onwards!”
Zack bounds inside, ignoring Angeal’s cry of outrage on Cloud’s behalf. Cloud can’t find it in himself to be mad because the skin contact feels great. And he’s surrounded by muscular arms, so it’s not too bad.
The inside of Phoenix is much bigger than the outside appears. There’s a kitchen and fully stocked pantry. There’s also a large bathroom with a pool of freshwater.
“How does the water stay,” Cloud struggles to say what his brain’s thinking, “down?”
Genesis goes into a slew of fancy words and hand waving, which he understands maybe a quarter of, and just nods his head.
Zack leans in to him to whisper sotto voce, “He doesn’t know either.”
“I heard that, Zackariah.”
“It’s Zack!”
The Phoenix also has, of course, the main deck which has some sort of steering…stick thing, and it comes with a massive window. At a poke, the window flickers and turns metallic. Cloud pokes it twice before returning it back to a window.
“This is so cool,” he breathes, tempted to give it one more poke. The height of the Phoenix’s window clears the top of his house, giving a clear view of most of his property. “What a beauty.”
The entire ship gives a tremble, ground vibrating beneath him. Cloud rocks on his feet before tumbling to the ground, eyes wide. “What was that?”
“She likes you,” Genesis remarks, patting the walls. The ship gives another tremble, complete with a high-pitched humming noise. “A lot, it seems.”
“It’s alive??”
“All our airships are alive to a degree,” Sephiroth inputs, smoothing a hand on the seat. “They understand emotions and physical touch, but not the social cues of a sentient being.”
“That’s, ” Cloud gives it some thought, “so cool.”
Phoenix trills, all the lights in the steer room flickering. Zack whistles. “Whoa, she’s going nuts. Never seen her do that before.”
“Why don’t you show Cloud the bedroom,” Angeal suggests, guiding Cloud away from the window. “Before Phoenix decides to strap him down in a chair.”
“Has she done that before?” Cloud asks nervously, eyeing the four (a fifth one popped up in the middle front) seats in the cockpit. They look comfortable, but he’d rather not be stuck there.
“No,” Angeal says immediately, patting him towards Zack a little more insistently.
“Not recently,” Sephiroth answers, which makes it even worse because he doesn’t make jokes in the time Cloud’s come to know him. He makes it worse when he adds, “She ejects the ones she doesn’t like into space.”
“But you don’t have to worry about that, Spike,” Zack chirps, clapping his hands on his shoulders and steering him out of the main room. “Come on, lemme show you our bedroom. You’re gonna love this.”
Love, he’s not sure yet. He’s definitely impressed though.
“That’s the biggest bed I’ve ever seen,” he remarks, stepping closer. The room is massive compared to the other rooms (save for the main), but the bed makes it seem smaller. It does look really, really-
“Comfy, right?”
Before Cloud has a chance to answer, Zack wraps his hands around him and tosses him on top of the bed as easily as you please. Cloud shouts, arms flailing as he sinks into the bed.
It’s soft and silky to the touch, springy and padded as Cloud rubs his hand over the sheet. “Wow.”
Zack throws himself beside Cloud, snuggling a pillow to his chest. “Phoenix has the best bed, I swear.”
“It’s a little too soft for me,” Sephiroth says, gliding into the room on silent feet. He sits at the edge of the bed, hair draping over the deep crimson sheets. “Is it to your liking, Cloud?”
“It’s too comfortable,” Cloud admits, feeling the weight of the day settling further in his body. It’s nearing midnight and he’s actually exhausted. “I’ll probably fall asleep if I stay here any longer.”
Before he can struggle out, Sephiroth reaches out a hand and stops him. “Good,” he purrs, sliding a hand down his chest to press him further in the mattress. “Stay. We would be overjoyed to have your presence here.”
Cloud should protest. He would protest if he weren’t so damn tired and if this bed wasn’t so comfortable. His eyelids close without his consent, drawing the blanket of sleep over his mind.
“Okay,” he mumbles, sinking deeper into sleep.
He feels hands carding through his hair, and then no more.
***
The smell of coffee rouses him from sleep.
Cloud has never been so comfortable. It’s warm and soft; the blanket is just the right temperature. Even in summer, it should be warm already.
“Fair morning, love.”
A hand cards through his, gently scritching his scalp with short nails. Cloud’s eyes flutter open, revealing a smiling Genesis.
“Morning,” Cloud mumbles, because no morning is ever good. He doesn’t really want to get up, but Genesis pulls him up gently. “What’s going on?”
“First, we’re going to wash up,” he announces, leading his stumbling self to the washroom he’d been shown the day before.
Cloud protests that he can just go back and change, but Genesis procures an outfit from who knows where and hands it to him. It’s gauzy and shows more chest than he’s comfortable with, but Gaia, it’s so comfortable.
Genesis leads him back to the bed once his biological needs have been taken care of, tucking the blanket around his lap as he’s nudged to lean against the headboard. “Not that I’m complaining, but what’s all this about exactly?”
“We are making you food,” he says with a brilliant smile.
“No, I am making him food,” Angeal says, waltzing in with the biggest tray of food Cloud has ever seen on one person. Sephiroth and Zack follow behind him, carrying. smaller but still large tray of food and drink. “You’re being a nuisance.”
Genesis says something in their language that sounds like it would make Claudia wash his mouth with soap.
“Angeal makes the best breakfast,” Zack exclaims, setting the tray down on the bed. Sephiroth places the cups on the table beside the bed before settling on top of the sheets. “Sephiroth told him everything you liked.”
Cloud hasn’t even tasted his food, but he can already tell it’s going to taste amazing. The waffles look fairly healthy, but they’re topped with strange, plump berries and a blue-tinged whipped cream that’s beginning to melt under the warmth.
“Do you accept our offering?” Angeal asks. His eyes are gentle, hopeful, and yet Cloud senses he’s willing to step back if asked.
After their conversation about foreign courting methods, Cloud understands this is not a question to be taken lightly.
But if Sephiroth and Zack are loving mates to Genesis and Angeal, he’s willing to bet that they are good people—Aliens. Same thing.
“I accept,” he says solemnly. Watching their eyes light up is a reward in the moment. All of them seem to have a green-ish tinge to their irises, which fluctuate with high emotions. Their eyes flicker between green and other colors, like watching a chameleon change.
“Coffee,” Sephiroth says, handing him a steaming mug, pleased in the way he smiles. “Milk and two sugars, as you like.”
Cloud sits up to accept the mug, gulping down coffee Sephiroth must have swiped from his pantry.
“Try it, try it,” Zack says impatiently, eyes bright with anticipation. He’s gravitated closer to him, nearly brushing against his shoulder.
He does. It is delicious and catered exactly to his taste—Sweet, but not overwhelmingly so. To his utter embarrassment, he lets out a noise of content after biting into a soft bread.
He doesn’t miss the hungry gazes that lock on his face. It makes the embarrassment fade to something in the background.
“Try this, love,” Genesis says eagerly, holding a slice of some purple-skinned fruit. He watches Cloud’s face, smiling cherubically as he does so.
And he tries the funny looking green eggs and more of the purple-skinned fruit Genesis affectionately calls a dumbapple. He tries the herbal tea Angeal insists is invigorating and the pastry-like sweet that’s stuffed with spiced dumbapples.
Thankfully, after he’s tried everything, they begin to tuck in as well. To Cloud’s embarrassment, he learns that their kind seem to have much larger appetites due to their metabolism. They eat much more than Cloud’s been giving them.
Zack reassures them that despite their metabolism, they can survive with minimal food for about two months, or on Cloud’s amount for four months.
“You could have told me,” Cloud grouses between a sip of coffee. “Midgar’s IDEA is probably dying to cater to you.”
“We have no need for that,” Sephiroth reminds him affectionately, leaning closer to nuzzle his chin against Cloud’s temple. He reminds Cloud of a cat, majestic and affectionate in their chosen person.
“Although, it would be fitting,” Genesis muses, seemingly always the one to enjoy luxuries. The massive bed and the luxurious silk sheets touch on the assumption.
As if on cue, Cloud’s work phone beeps. He grimaces and reaches for the object, checking the incoming number. “Speak of the devil.”
He answers, somewhat irritated at the reality that comes crashing back in. “Cloud speaking.”
“Good morning, Cloud,” comes Tseng’s cool voice. “I trust you've been able to accommodate our guests?”
“They seem to enjoy their stay.” Enjoy might be an understatement. Sephiroth’s raised eyebrow seems to translate that, but he stays quiet.
Angeal looks a little peeved at the treatment Cloud receives, Genesis even more so.
“Well done, Cloud,” Tseng tells him, though nothing in his voice conveys his praise. “That’s good news.”
“Is there a reason for this call so early in the morning,” Cloud asks, irritation slipping into his voice.
“It’s a quarter from noon,” Tseng remarks idly, somewhat disapprovingly. “And considering your guests are foreign royalty, we hope you’ve been able to provide what they wish for. Edge is a highly valued ally, which means they should be allowed only the best treatment.”
That you can’t afford, is what goes unsaid. Cloud hears it nonetheless.
Before Cloud can respond, Genesis snatches the phone from his hand. “Look here,” he adds a word that Cloud can’t quite translate but it has nowhere near the fondness he called Angeal, “Cloud has done more than we can ask for. He is more than what we deserve and we have no need for your supposed luxuries.”
Zack and Cloud exchange an amused glance. That’s not what he was saying earlier.
Tseng says something Cloud can’t quite hear, but the others do. Even Angeal, who seems to be the calmest (and most paternal) bristles at what was said. He takes the phone from Genesis, who seems to sense the male’s unshakeable patience has been poked at.
“Tseng, was it?” he asks lightly. He receives a noise of confirmation, “You understand Banoran, yes?”
Another confirmation.
Angel lets loose a slew of words Cloud can’t understand at all, not even from Resonance. It seems to stump Tseng, who doesn’t respond even as he ends, Angeal hangs up and tosses the phone to the wall, which swallows it up.
“I need that,” Cloud says woodenly, surprised and a little pleased.
“We’ll get you a better one,” Sephiroth promises, slinking forward to press him against the bed. Comfortably full and warm, and even having washed up before, he feels the lull calling his name.
He works for himself. Why shouldn’t he take a break?
“I’ll get you a better one,” Zack chirps, slipping under his arm. “Seph’s terrible with tech.”
“Tentacles make for terrible technological progress,” said male says irritably, heaving a deep sigh.
“Stay a while, precious,” Genesis croons. “We’ll take care of you.”
“You’ll never be alone again,” Zack says earnestly. He snuggles against his chest despite being larger than Cloud. “We’re here now.”
Never to be alone again. Cloud thinks about all the years he’s been on his own, working, meandering around looking for some sort of fulfilling purpose.
Cloud thinks how easily they’ve slotted into his life, how reverently they hold him despite his fragile and meager position on this planet, in this life. He wishes he could see what they saw in him.
He relaxes, curling close to Zack. He feels Angeal’s affectionate stare, Sephiroth’s gentle Resonance thrumming in his chest, and Genesis’ wandering hands.
Cloud thanks Gaia’s lucky stars for this. Maybe that wish he made almost a decade ago did do something good for once.