51/100: Hate. Sephiroth/Genesis
This was totally inspired by a huge purple emu that kept on killing me in Crisis Core. Oh the shame.. Happy International Chocolate Day!

Disclaimer - Characters are not mine. And even if you wish to sue, you won't get much out of me.

I would like to thank Misu, Sphinx and Karadin for giving me a few pointers with this.

Hate

What Brings Us Together, Tears Us Apart

A whole day and one whole night in this cold and dark hellhole: Genesis was sure it didn't get any worse than this. Then his subconscious reminded him that he was stuck in said hellhole with Sephiroth. Without a tent (it would be the last time he let Angeal pack his kit for him). Somehow, he just knew that Lazard and Angeal had sent to two of them here to smooth over what has already been clearly outlined by both SOLDIERs as "irreconcilable differences".

And over what? Because Sephiroth wanted be another Angeal? To mother over and protect Genesis where it just wasn't wanted? He fussed and fussed until fussed himself over the line. Was the man just stupid? Genesis was obviously looking for other qualities in the man, why else would he had taken the General to bed rather than demanding a home cooked meal each night?

"They're the President's chocobos," Lazard had claimed "Someone has to protect them from AVALANCE's threat,"

Sighing, Genesis settled back down on the damp grass, hugging his jacket closer as he read. Well, tried to read between batting away unwanted attention from the stupid chocobos – his only company out in the field - who were entranced by the way his eyes glistened a beautiful pale blue.

The first few were easy to distract, but then more became interested and soon the redhead country boy found himself besieged by fluffy, yellow, squawking poultry. That was pleasant compared to the sound of the zipper of the tent behind him unfastening. That meant Sephiroth was coming out… for one reason and one reason only.

Mockery.

Pure, unadulterated mockery.

The General stepped out in all of his glory, looking as flawless as ever. Looking as amused as ever as well. And it was disgusting.

"Well, you certainly have a way with birds," He noted, standing tall with his arms crossed over his loosely clothed torso.

Genesis' reply was a glare that had half the birds making a quick escape, the temperature of the air raised as his left hand throbbed a dull orange.

"Need help again?"

"No." Genesis replied curtly, also standing and attempting to flick the remaining chocobos away. They stayed.

The General's smirk was still ever-present on his slim pale face. Eyes were as smug as the cat that got all the cream. Then it changed. "Are you ever going to get over what happened?"

"What?"

"You know what," Sephiroth sighed, letting his left hand drop and he called the chocobos away from the redhead.

"Oh, you mean the fact that you think I am completely incapable of defeating an angry purple emu?"

"It certainly seemed that way,"

Genesis growled, exasperated and irritated. Sephiroth was just… so… supercilious. Only to him. To everyone else he was the great General, the genius, the quiet, stoic leader… he was perfection. To Genesis he was everything he hated. And then some more. So why was he so obsessed with him? The redhead shoved his precious book back into the secure pocket inside his jacket; heaved himself up and stormed off to the other side of the field.

Down there, a little stream, dyed black from the night's sky, carved its way through the green grass. Genesis sat by its side, watching the small fish resting amongst the weeds for a few moments before glancing downstream. He knew that somewhere this stream would meet up to another, or maybe even a wide river… Somehow, no matter how much he hated to admit it, if reminded him of Sephiroth… again. How the General was the little stream, trying to meander his way through Genesis' being, just to reach the metaphorical river of love. Genesis scoffed. Too much poetry in his system, even for his liking.

But Sephiroth was so close. So damn close to succeeding, but he was just going about it all the wrong way. Sometime in the near future (Genesis hoped), Sephiroth would notice the error in his ways, how there could and would only ever be one 'Angeal' in his life; how all he needed to do was be there, stand there and admire him. Until that moment Genesis would sit here, glowering at nothing, festering with hate.

Footsteps on the wet grass approached behind him, too regular and languid to be another inquisitive bird. Genesis' eyes narrowed dangerously. Warm arms encircled his neck, pulling him back into a hard chest. Words were whispered against his ear. Soft. Gentle. Everything he didn't want to hear in his anger for the fire that consumed him was quickly shunned away by affection.

The extent of his affliction was pitiful…

The one thing he truly hated was himself.