Disclaimer: Do not own.
Warnings: Fluff, slash, OOC.
A/N: Based off the prompt on the Strifeheart kinkmeme for Cloud coming home to a sleeping Leon.
Cloud doesn't need to turn on the lights when he slips through the back door of their house. Years of late nights and early mornings have honed his senses to navigating in the dark before twilight is even a thought on the horizon.
He leans his sword against the kitchen wall with barely a muffled thump as he toes the door shut behind him. He's promised Leon that he wouldn't disappear for so long, but fate had called him away to fight his never-ending battle with Sephiroth for weeks until the man had vanished with a bright light and burst of black feathers. Frustration had twisted sharp within him at yet another aborted encounter, but memories of Leon temper that rage to a slow burn. He has time, and thoughts of Sephiroth do not plague him as they once did.
Tired fingers unlace his muddy boots and he leaves them by the front door with the socks wadded up in the boot shafts. The worn floorboards chill his feet when he silently pads down the hallway towards the stairs. He thinks of Leon already asleep in their shared bed and hopes he will not wake tomorrow to stoic silence. He plans the breakfast he will make tomorrow will make up for it if the gunblader will let him.
There's a whisper of sound in the near silent living room above the gentle chirp of crickets in the night. The muscles in his shoulders tense in response of an unknown threat while his Mako blue eyes scan the room with efficient sweeps. They land on a curled up figure on the couch illuminated by bars of moonlight filtering through the slatted window, and a soft smile appears on Cloud's face.
Leon is fast asleep on the couch with Aerith's knitted blanket covering the top portion of his body. His booted feet hangs over the arm of the couch, one hand is pillowed under his cheek and the other nearly brushing the floor with a motorcycle magazine loosely clutched between his fingers. There are two mugs filled with untouched coffee, and Cloud feels guilt curl up within him that Leon has tired to stay awake for his sake.
He walks around the couch to pick up the magazine and set it down on the end table. Leon grumbles, fingers twitching at the loss, but he doesn't wake. Cloud's tempted to wake him up because the other man is going to have a painful crick in his neck when morning comes, but the dark smudges under his eyes convince Cloud to let him be.
"Goodnight, Leon," he says softly and brushes long bangs behind Leon's ear to kiss his temple. The blond snags a throw pillow off the armchair and sets it down on the floor. A cold bed is the only thing that awaits him upstairs, and a little discomfort doesn't bother him to be close to Leon; he doesn't plan to sleep anyway.
Cloud leans back against the couch with his fingers gently entwining with Leon's. The gunblader's soft, steady breathing is a comfort to Cloud as he stares out the window into the moonlit night. Dawn is still far off, but he's glad to be with Leon in the quiet of their home.