Sephiroth's Weakness

Sephiroth, the one and only Sephiroth, the man of long silver hair, ten foot toad stickers, lover of cats and hater of rain, stood upon a pedestal of fame. Sephiroth, the man who wore long leather trench coats, thigh high boots, and always was fending off fan girls (and Zack), seemingly had no weaknesses. He had single handedly defeated whole armies, taken down mountains of paperwork in just a few hours, and even managed to keep his private life (what there was of it) well hidden.

But there was one thing he would never admit to. He did have two weaknesses, two weaknesses that were unlike any other. But it was not just a person that he was attached to, oh no. No, it was the one thing of his childhood that didn't hurt him, and never brought him anything but comfort. It was the one thing he still had that hadn't been destroyed nor confiscated from him after he was released from the labs.

Sephiroth, the great and mighty war hero, had an unbelievable and almost unrealistic attachment to a blanket. It was of a decent size, a deep green and blue pattern, and made of a thick fabric, a mix of soft wool and cotton. He kept it neatly folded underneath the gray covers of his bed, and tucked alongside his extra pillows, so when he went to bed at night, he could cuddle it close or sleep underneath it. On the rare days he had spare time to nap, he chose that blanket to nap underneath.

Zack, however, was another story. The young and puppy like Soldier somehow managed to wiggle his way underneath Sephiroths ironclad walls, and teach him about emotions and being human, and even though his childhood had brought him nothing but pain and fear, not everyone was like that. Zack had taken a beating through the process, as Sephiroth hadn't known how to react to something that he didn't like other than with violence.

When Zack had attempted to sit in his office with him for the first time, just to get him used to his company in a non-mission related way, he had been thrown out the window. It took weeks for Sephiroth to get comfortable with him in his personal office for extended periods of time. At first Zack had no longer than 2 hours, indicated by Sephiroth.

"Zack."

"Okay, okay." He sighed, smiling, and getting up. "I'm leaving." He would always try to edge closer to touch him before he left. Sephiroth always jerked his hands away. Until an incident just a few months ago, where Sephiroth had been to the labs for injections of Mako, and when an entire company that he himself had trained, had been obliterated in battle, with Zack and himself as the only survivors.

Sephiroth had returned, and collapsed in his office, sword dropping to the floor, head in his hands. Zack was no better, collapsing to the floor, sword clattering in its holster onto the floor beside him. What was different this time, was the blood covering Zack's torn shoulder, Sephiroth's emotions that he was starting to process from months of talking to Zack, and that he could feel Zack's boot touching his ankle.

"Seph?" came Zack's broken tone.

"Zack." He murmured, his voice losing its carefully controlled monotone. His silvery baritones filled with the sadness and pain he was feeling.

He didn't move when he saw Zack's ungloved hands come into view, slowly and gently reaching for him. Now, he trusted Zack, having stood back to back with him, swords flickering in swathes of steel, and materia alight. He had saved Zack's life, and in turn, Zack had saved his. He had saved one man, and that one man trusted him and wanted to be close to him. He lowered his hands from his face, elbows still on his knees, head hanging low.

His body was shaking from the work of the battle and the mako sickness he always endured after lab days. He had felt sick and tired, and frankly just weak all day. And after this battle, and trying to not cry, he had no ability to tell Zack to not touch him. So, when Zack's warm fingertips brushed his cheekbone, his green eyes widened, the tears filling them. His touch didn't hurt, spreading a warmth throughout his cold body. He could feel the care behind Zack's touch, and feel why he had been trying to get close to him for almost a year now, and never gave up, no matter how many times he had been thrown, dodged, and in one case, actually thrown out a window.

Zack's warm hands didn't move, reading him. Sephiroth's eyes slowly closed, head dropping into Zack's palms, tears finally trailing down his ashen skin, silver hair falling over his shoulder in a long curtain. He could smell the blood still oozing out of the wound on the other man's shoulder, but as the hands cupping his face moved to touch his eyebrows and forehead, fingertips mapping out his face, he just relaxed down and sighed as the tears just kept flowing, shoulders shaking in silent sobs of agony.

Zack was glorious. He didn't speak, just moved those warm and calloused hands to touch him, the first gentle, good touch he had ever experienced. His green eyes were a molten, forest green as they opened and met Zack's liquid blue eyes, glowing slightly purple with unshed tears. Thumbs came up and swiped away the tears, a small smile across the younger man's face.

"I'm here."

"Zack…" He murmured, not even trying to hide his pain. His want for more of the warm touch was spoken in his name, and Sephiroth had never wanted anything so much in his entire life.

Warm fingers slid across his face, through his hair and down his neck, warm arms coming to hold him close to Zack's chest and shoulder, cradling him close, like something delicate and breakable. His arms shaking, and not sure he was doing it right, clung to Zack. His fingers gripping onto his uniform with a white knuckled grip, and for an hour they stayed that way. Sephiroth just feeling, and sobbing into Zack's shoulder; Zack on his knees and just holding the man who was learning just what being human for the first time was like.

From then on, Sephiroth never hesitated to let Zack close to him. Now, even on days where there were no pressing missions, Zack was always with Sephiroth, either discussing something avidly in low tones, training, or even reading in the library. At meal times, they sat together at a table, quietly eating in each other's company. Angeal had witnessed a few very rare smiles from the General, and had been so shocked that Zack had to catch him before he fell over from the surprise.

They often walked the halls together after missions to go to quarters, and Sephiroth had stopped Zack just before the younger man's door.

"Zack." His silver baritone had more emotion to it than Zack had heard in a while. His head turned, blue eyes curious. Sephiroth responded better if you waited quietly for him to say what was on his mind when it was clear he had your attention. Zack, as the only empath who could read him like that, had figured that out very quickly.

"I want you to know that you are welcome to my quarters at any time."

Black eyebrows rose in shock, and he sensed the slight nervousness from the man in front of him.

"Thanks." He responded with a smile. Sephiroth smiled, a lift to the side of his mouth, and was gone to his quarters. A few days later, he thought about his life now, recognizing the change that Zack had brought to him. He was the only one who knew that he was capable of real emotions, that he was not just a war machine, and Zack cherished that he was trusted with that. Which was why Zack was so important to him now.

Not even a few months ago, Sephiroth would have never let anyone just sit in his office with him and solve Sudoku puzzles, but now, it was a regular thing on Saturdays as he read reports and filled out paperwork. Zack sat in a comfortable leather chair or on the floor in front of the fireplace and solved puzzles, stretched, or occasionally read a book.

So of course, the day that he was out on a solo mission, Zack was badly injured. Sephiroth and Zack were very close, Zack being his only close friend, and one of the only people he ever wanted to be around, and he was always around. Every single day. He was also the only one ever allowed in Sephiroth's rooms whenever he wanted, though he had never taken advantage of that agreement. Until now.

Sephiroth could not ever remember a time that he had run home so fast, his silver flag of hair whipping about his form as he seemingly flew back to headquarters, sword the barest brush of whispering steel about him. Moving in a dignified fashion, but as quickly as he could, he beelined it to the infirmary, trying desperately to not let his newfound feelings show. It was something that Zack had taught him, in one of the more intimate moments they had shared. He recognized it as fear, and maybe panic. He was scared that Zack was hurt.

So when he burst into the infirmary in an uncharacteristic display of dramatics, emotion, swirling hair and leather, he looked almost frantically for Zack's unkempt and wild hair, his tell-tale sign.

There was no porcupine head of black hair.

"Where is Zack?" He asked, after a moment of controlling his emotions long enough to choke out the question in his deep, silvery baritone. One of the nurses, her uniform impeccable, and also visibly surprised, stuttered out an answer.

"H-he left Sir. Said he was going to his quarters."

Sephiroth had vanished from the open doorway and was moving down the hallway before she finished replying, speaking her words to the swinging double doors and trying frantically to hide her blush from her co-workers. It was beyond rare that a nurse in the infirmary, somewhere Sephiroth never went, ever saw more than a glimpse of the silver haired war hero.

He came to a frantic stop in front of Zack's quarters, and let himself in, swiftly unlocking the door and gliding in. He took one look around, searching the kitchen, living room, and bedroom. He even called out quietly, "Zack?" But there was no response. Zack was not here, and he paused, desperately trying to figure out where the puppy of a soldier may have gone.

One thing came to mind, but it was so unbelievable that he almost shook it out of his head. There was no way that Zack would have gone to his quarters. But as he tried to reassure himself of that, his chest heaving in panicked breaths and his eyes frantic, the green turned nearly manic from the emotions he was feeling, he felt his feet turn and lead him out of the apartment Zack lived in, gloved fingertips grazing the kitchen counter.

So when he found himself walking into his own quarters, holding his breath in anticipation, he couldn't believe it when he walked into his bedroom and found that Zack was indeed curled up his bed, tucked underneath his heavy grey quilt and his head pillowed on his spare pillows. Sephiroth breathed out a heavy breath when he realized Zack was okay, just sleeping, and carefully removed his heavy boots, gently setting aside masamune as well. He came to sit down next to Zack on his bed, fingertips brushing Zack's barely bruised cheekbone. He was breaking his own self-imposed rule of no touch without permission, but he was so relieved and filled with so many emotions that he couldn't bring himself to abide by that rule.

The strikingly blue eyes that he knew and loved so much finally cracked open, and Zack barely rolled over, just enough to face him, eyes sleepy and cloudy. They were also full of pain, something that he couldn't bring himself to allow any longer.

"Seph?"

"Zack. I heard you were injured, though I am surprised to see you in my bed. Are you alright?" His fingers ghosted over the curve of Zack's bare shoulder, and he found he could feel the warmth even through his gloves.

Zack let out a puppy like whine, and rolled back onto his other side.

"Hurts… and your bed was closest."

Sephiroth didn't say another word, as he knew his bed wasn't the closest. Furthest from it, actually, now that he thought about it for a moment. Zack had the strange habit of running to him for comfort, though he was the last person on anyone else's list of people of comfort. He felt the ghost of a smile touch his ashen lips.

He knew of no other person that had ever needed him as much as Zack did. Not his fighting, his materia, his hair, no. Just him. Sephiroth. That is all that Zack needed, and so, with a touch more pleasure than he would ever admit to, Sephiroth obliged Zack's unspoken request for his company.

He slid out of his clothes, folding and hanging them neatly where they belonged, before putting on a pair of pajama pants, brushing his teeth and hair, and turning out the few lights in the apartment. He slid into bed with Zack, and froze as he realized was Zack was curled up under.

Underneath the heavy down comforter that he normally slept under, Zack was curled into his blanket. His special blanket. He tucked himself under his covers and didn't say a word, a smile on his face when Zack scooted over to tuck himself against his broad chest, nose pressed into his neck, inhaling a relaxed breath as he settled down again.

Sephiroth slid an arm around his slim waist, fingers stroking over the defined planes of muscle in his back, pausing when he brushed a bandage in the middle of his back. He brought his fingertips around to his belly, and felt the other bandage there.

Zack had a through and through stab wound.

Unable to let him deal with the pain of trying to sleep while his body was trying to knit a wound that major closed, he gently allowed his hands to alight with the green of a heal materia, palm pressing gently to his belly, the site of the wound.

Zack let out a keening sigh of utter pleasure as the green glow healed his wound in minutes, before promptly passing out into the deepest sleep Sephiroth had ever witnessed.

And as such, Sephiroth curled up and arranged himself underneath his blanket and comforter with Zack curled into his chest, his long arms around his young friend, hair sprawled across his bed in a plait that was becoming loose. Before drifting into sleep though, he pressed his ashen lips in a kiss to Zack's forehead.

From that day on, Zack hardly ever slept in his own bed.