Author's Note: Merry Christmas Daigo-chan. I know its treacherously late. I'm sorry! T_T I tried to get it as fast as possible, but I was really busy.
An apology to the rest of my readers, for I had not updated in a while. Updates are coming as soon as I can get to them, but I have been incredibly busy. I'm sorry! T_T *hugs you all*
Oh, and check out Daigo-chan's stuff! Has some Seph and Vin stuff there too! daigo-chan dot deviantart dot com (jeesh, didn't realize they wiped out urls from the documents)
Disclaimer: I don't own any of Squeenix's characters.
Christmas Night
By Avina Garamond
Vincent sighed irritably. Sephiroth was not making this any easier. In fact, he was making this harder than it had to be. So Vincent had never celebrated, so what? He wanted Sephiroth to celebrate. It was just one holiday for goodness' sake. Christmas. How hard was it to celebrate one day of the entire year?
He glanced at the clock, seeming to be able to look right past his curtain of raven hair. It was eight in the evening. Sephiroth had promised to be back at six. Two hours late... He shook his head and rechecked the turkey for the twelfth time in the past ten minutes. He had actually gone grocery shopping earlier in the day, when Sephiroth was still out of the house. And now he was actually trying to cook.
The door slammed, signaling the arrival of his lover. Sephiroth came home, agitated beyond belief. He was covered in snow from the blizzard raging outside. Vincent came out of the kitchen and smiled, relieved that Sephiroth was alright.
"What?" Sephiroth's voice was abrupt, and instantly soured the mood.
"Did you bring it?" Vincent asked, a bit more cooly than he intended. His smile had vanished.
"Like Hell, I did. The roads are icy, and the truck slid off the road on Monastery." Vincent blinked. Monastery avenue was a dainty little road that crossed the entire Patux river. It was mostly a bridge. A very icy bridge.
"Did the truck fall into the river?" Vincent asked. Sephiroth gave a curt nod, or as good as one he could muster while unwrapping the scarf around his neck. Miniature icicles rained down onto the welcoming mat.
"I got off the bridge fine. It was the turn onto Rosamary that was covered in ice. Truck spun out of control, drove itself back to the river, and dived in."
"And you got out before it drove in the river."
"I'm not stupid. I did," Sephiroth said. Vincent sighed.
"You walked here?"
"Yes." No wonder he was late...
"Alright. We'll do without a tree."
"Should have gotten a damn tree by yourself," Sephiroth said. He removed his gloves and hat and put them on the ancient radiator.
"I got a faux," Vincent said sheepishly. Sephiroth snorted. The heavy coat was next. It hung on an empty coat rack, looking rather lonesome.
"Is that alright?" Vincent asked, a twinge of worry in his voice. He wanted Sephiroth to have a nice Christmas.
"Its your holiday, not mine. I'm putting up with it because you're forcing me to, remember?" Sephiroth pointed out accusingly. He knelt to remove his snow-covered boots.
"Alright, alright. I have eggnog." Sephiroth put the boots close to the radiator.
"What?"
"Eggnog."
"What is eggnog?" Sephiroth asked. It sounded disgusting.
"Would you calm down already?" Vincent snapped at him. "Its Christmas. You're supposed to be cheery and all that." Sephiroth decided not ask what "all that" was supposed to be.
"I am not cheery. I jumped out of a spinning truck after paying two thousand gil for a tree that is now floating in a river," he said. A scowl was plastered on his usually-angelic features. He plopped onto the couch and glared at the fireplace, willing the dancing blaze inside to be hotter.
Soft padding footsteps. A gentle hand on his shoulder. The soft sound of crumpling age-old cushions as Vincent sat next to him. Sephiroth turned, losing the glare in his eyes. Painfully thin arms draped around his neck, and all he saw was velvety black hair.
"Sorry..." Sephiroth mumbled. He wasn't sure what he was apologizing for, but suddenly, he felt at fault. His icy-cold hands wrapped around Vincent's waist. He felt a soft kiss above his ear. Vincent pulled away, raking his left hand through Sephiroth's silver hair. It was then that Sephiroth realized Vincent had not worn the gauntlet. That was odd. Vincent always wore the gauntlet, being used to it for so many years that he needed someone to remind him that it was just a piece of armor, not his actual arm.
"Defrost, and calm down, okay?" Vincent instructed, gentler than necessary. It increased Sephiroth's sense of guilt. He nodded. Vincent went back into the kitchen.
Sephiroth slumped against the crinkly cushions. He had to remind himself that Vincent was only trying to get him to be happy with him. To not be a complete recluse. To be able to say that he had done something for Christmas besides read alone in his room. Vincent appeared again with a two mugs half full of some sort of thick, yellowish substance.
"This is eggnog," Vincent said with the soothing voice of a counselor, setting the plastic mugs on the table. Sephiroth picked one mug up.
"You don't have to use the babysitter voice. I'm fine," he said. It was a bit gruff, but he didn't want Vincent to hound him about feeling terrible again. It made him feel even more terrible. Vincent was like Sephiroth's shrink.
He took a sip of eggnog. He eyebrows furrowed together, an obvious giveaway that he did not enjoy the drink one bit. He swallowed anyway and put the mug back on the table.
"Too sweet?" Vincent asked. Sephiroth nodded. That was one word he could call it. Vincent took Sephiroth's mug back into the kitchen. Sephiroth heard the distinct clinking of glass and wondered vaguely what Vincent was doing. The fireplace was doing its job, making him feel a lot warmer.
"Hey, I'm going to change," he called. If Vincent didn't find him when he came back in, he would send his search party of one, himself, around the house looking for him. Sephiroth went into their room and took off his wet sweater and shirt and donned on a fresh long-sleeve. He changed his frozen pants into a fresh pair and came back to the living room barefoot. The cold hardwood didn't bother him. Being wet did.
Vincent gave him his new mug. It had a lot more eggnog in it that previously, and had a slightly different color.
He took a sip. The new drink was the same sweet eggnog, but spiced with the bitter and aromatic whiskey that he liked. He swallowed and took another sip, conscious of Vincent's smile. He took another sip, and set the mug down, trying hard not to laugh.
Vincent sat next to him, or leaned on him really. Sephiroth looked at his calm face. Vincent's eyes were closed and he seemed content just leaning on him. Even though Sephiroth knew for a fact that he was not a comfortable head rest.
"I like it," he said softly. Vincent smiled and nodded, his eyes still closed.
"I knew you'd like it with whiskey," he said. Sephiroth wrapped his arm around Vincent's shoulders and pulled him close to him. He closed his eyes as well, resting his cool cheek on Vincent's head. He felt a lot more warm...
Vincent wiggled from out of Sephiroth's grasp. Sephiroth was asleep, and back to looking angelic. A nap wouldn't hurt him, and besides, Vincent reasoned with himself, if he jumped out of a spinning truck, he probably had to cast Cure a few times on himself. He must be a little drained.
He went back to the kitchen to check on the turkey. A few more minutes and it would be done. Since he had time to spare, he put up the cheap faux tree. He wished he had a real one, because it would smell really nice and give a really Christmas-y feel, but if a faux one was all he had, it would do. He stuffed his present under the tree. The tag on it said "To: Vincent, From: Cloud" but Vincent had scratched out the names in pen to say "To: Sephiroth, From: Vincent." He wondered how creative Sephiroth would be with wrapping his present. Would he have one even? Sephiroth had been rather stubborn when going against the celebration. Vincent shrugged. Whatever Sephiroth planned, it didn't matter. As long as Sephiroth celebrated Christmas at least one time in his life. It wasn't entirely fair that he had been stuck with ShinRa since he was born.
He went back to the kitchen. Turkey was almost done... He took all the side dishes out of the refrigerator and heated them. He quietly set the table. Ready to wake Sephiroth up, Vincent went back into the living room, expecting Sephiroth to be laying on the couch.
He wasn't. In fact, his head was still resting on air, and his arm was still curled around Vincent's shoulders. It was as if he was frozen in that exact position. Vincent nudged him a wake and kissed him on the cheek.
"Come on. I cooked dinner," he said. Sephiroth nodded, getting rid of his sleepy haze. It smelled really good and he plodded into the dining room after Vincent. It was cooler here because the window frame was cracked and letting cold air in. The chairs creaked as the two people sat in them. Sephiroth cut the turkey. The knife glided into the roasted bird as if the bird were merely water. Sephiroth's ease with blades never ceased to stun Vincent.
They ate silently, save for the clinking of fork on plate. It was just one of those cozy little things that Sephiroth decided he liked. He took a sip from his mug of spiked eggnog. The stuff was going to his head. How much whiskey did Vincent put in this thing?
He was slowly getting buzzed... and sleepy. Contrary to popular belief, he was a sleepy drunk, not an angry, or even amorous one.
Vincent prodded him back to the fireplace. They cuddled warmly, Sephiroth dozing off the alcohol, until the clock chimed midnight. The chime woke Sephiroth and he looked up sleepily. He finally noticed the fake Christmas tree with a present under it. He smiled as he saw the crap wrapping job. Vincent stuffed it into his hands.
" 'M sorry..." Sephiroth said, still a bit sleepily. Vincent looked at him quizzically.
"Your present was in the truck..." Vincent broke into a smile. So, Sephiroth did get him something?
"That's alright," Vincent said. "I got to make you happy today. That's all I really wanted." Sephiroth smiled.
"Well? Open your present," Vincent said. Sephiroth tore off the already torn wrapping paper. It was a sweater. A really thick, warm, black sweater. With white snowflakes embroidered on the cuffs.
"Sorry, but I really hated that gray thing you call a sweater," Vincent laughed. Sephiroth chuckled along with him, and put the sweater on for Vincent's sake. Vincent hugged him tightly. Sephiroth stroked the raven hair.
"Thanks," he said. Vincent smiled. All of a sudden, he just wanted Christmas to end. They were becoming mush. It wasn't like them at all. Sephiroth kissed his lips, a silver thread of hair captured between their mouths. Sephiroth pulled away, brushed it off, and kissed Vincent again.
Vincent's mouth opened, and a tongue dove inside. Sephiroth chuckled. Since he didn't have Vincent's present... perhaps he could... improvise.
The couch crinkled loudly, as they situated themselves on it. The fire reflected in their eyes, but it made them feel more cozy than excited. Warm bare skin touched warm bare skin. Vincent stroked Sephiroth's face.
"See? You can spend Christmas like us," he said. "Us" meant the rest of Vincent's friends. Cloud, Tifa, Reeve, Yuffie, Cid, Shelke, the list went on.
"I don't care about them," Sephiroth said. "You know I just did it for you." Vincent nodded.
"Pretend that I've been being a good influence?" Vincent asked. Sephiroth nodded.
"Alright..." The only reason why Vincent's friends were entirely supporting their relationship was because Vincent was the counselor. No one else would be able to curb his ambition. Or anger. They didn't care half as much for the... love... between them as for Vincent's ability to calm him.
Vincent kissed Sephiroth again.
"Come on," he said, an impish smile on his lips. He could tell that the whiskey was getting out of Sephiroth's system. "Lets do something..." All implication involved. Sephiroth chuckled.
"I love you..." he whispered into Vincent ear. Vincent smiled. It felt really good to hear Sephiroth say that. He said it so infrequently too.
"I love you too, Sephiroth," Vincent said. He felt gentle, teasing lips on his neck. The foreplay had begun. He rubbed all thoughts of "too mushy" out of his head. Screw it. It was Christmas. It was allowed.