Disclaimer: Not mine, damn it all.
Frozen in Amber
I'd say you make a perfect
Angel in the snow
All crushed out on the way you are
Better stop before it goes to far
Don't you know that I love you
Sometimes I feel like only a cold still life
That fell down here to lay beside you—Elliot Smith, Angel in the Snow
It is the second ice storm Reno had ever seen in Midgar. He's seen them on the Northern Continent, of course, but that doesn't count. He isn't sure it counts as being on the planet. He goes close enough to the bedroom window to see outside and gasps.
Snow and icicles drape the holiday decorations in the streets and, at the early morning hour, are still pristine white, something he has seen on greeting cards but would have sworn did not exist in real life. He hears his lover's voice on the phone. Arguing.
"Tifa, I'm sure he is fine. No, he called yesterday, he asked to use the fishing camp. Of cour—no. Look, if you want to call Rude and have him babysit a man who slept three decades in a coffin and chooses to spend two nights in a perfectly functional house alone, you do it but he's an adult and I don't think he needs a mother and yes, I think he can read a calendar. Okay, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to snap. Of course we'll be over later. Love you too."
"She trying to mother Vincent again?" His lover's only response is a soft snort as he doctors his coffee with a liberal amount of hazelnut liqueur. "Hey, look out the window."
"Gods, that is beautiful. We should get iced in more often."
"Yeah, last time it happened we never got out of bed."
"The horrors." They shared a long, lingering kiss that was just starting to turn interesting when the phone rang. "Yes, Tifa? That's good. Now we can all sleep well at night."
"Hmmm?"
"Says she called Rude and he ran into Vincent at the market last night and they got shithammered on mulled wine and Vin's happily passed out still, so all is well in the world of genetically altered angsty possessed ex-Turks twice the age of the bartenders trying to mother them."
"You ever wonder about those two?"
"Tifa and Rude? She says they're history, it was just a fling."
"I know that, yo. I mean…Rude and Vincent. Sometimes I wonder. You two are tight, he ever say anything?"
Cloud chews on a secret shared long ago. "Vincent isn't seeing anyone. I think he's still too skittish with his past. If anything, they'll dance around that a while longer, if not forever." He might not be able to lie for shit, he thinks, but he can evade with the best of them. "Like we were much better."
Their eyes meet, warm at the memory. "Like we still are, babe."
Cloud laughs, the way he never laughed before Reno, a laugh of comfort into his shoulder, their very not-sexy fleece pajamas suddenly the most romantic thing he's ever felt against his skin and he hugs him. Just hugs him, though there is a promise in his touch for later, and breathes in the scent of early morning and coffee and hazelnut on his skin.
It is four blocks to the bar, a cold stroll but a deadly drive and so they bundle up and walk. It's a little more churned by play, dirty makeshift snowmen waving at them from balconies and doorways while holiday trees blink from windows, the only witnesses to their solitary afternoon walk. There was a time it had been so foreign to Reno. Not many people celebrated below the plate. Winter just meant it was harder to stay warm and summer meant it was harder to stay cool, their only marking of the seasons. And if he is honest with himself, ShinRa was nothing but a pay raise. He was still little more than an animal living on scraps, just spending more money in the process. A change in geography had not been enough to make him human.
No, he could not say he had really been happy until he had fallen in love with Cloud. He hugs him a little tighter as they walk through the ice, feeling it crunch underneath his boots, that and their breathing the only sound in the frozen silence of the afternoon. It is still new to him, this shared warmth, this shared life, the learned habit of looking down and knowing that Cloud will still be there. He is still afraid to trust it yet, still half wild animal. But the sight of Cloud's faintly glowing blue eyes against the white of the snow, their breath hanging in the winter air, may be the most beautiful thing he has ever seen and he doesn't think his soul has even known how to wish for it until now.
They arrive at Seventh Heaven to a flurry of activity, like an anthill shaken. The power, flickering on and off all day has finally given up the ghost. "Thank Gaia I have a gas stove," Tifa mutters as she flits by. The smell of the evergreen tree fills the bar area, now closed to customers but open to friends. Barret has thankfully come to visit earlier in the week as all travel, even the ferry, has shut down for the storm; Marlene sits on his lap and Reeve manages to look very dignified as he helps her cut snowflakes out of paper.
"Did anyone hear from Vincent?" Reeve asks as Tseng pours them both a glass of sake.
"I called Rude earlier, he's holed up at Nannan's house sleeping off mulled wine. He tried to make it here but the ferry was shut down."
"Silly angsty fucker, shoulda stayed at Cid's." As usual, Barret remembers he had promised himself he would stop cursing in front of his daughter and looks uncomfortable until he forgets about it again.
"Silly angsty fucker just sent me a picture on his phone of the beach, says it's almost sixty degrees. I think we can hang up the 'feel sorry for Vincent' party now." Privately, Cloud doesn't feel very sorry for him at all, thinking his overlay in Costa was at least subconsciously designed. He shares his suspicions with no one, however, not even Reno. He texts back, Happy Winter Feast old friend, stuffing down his mild weather jealousy in the process, and turns back to the party.
Reno helps Tifa light oil lamps, pyromaniac that he is, while Cloud and Denzel light a few taper candles down the length of the large table, bathing the celebrants in their amber glow. She returns to the kitchen for the turkey but Tseng stops her. "I'll get it, you've been on your feet since dawn." Reno follows him and brings out a pan of dressing, the spicy green onion sausage in it a gift from his partner, home made from a smokehouse in Costa. He feels a rush of warm brotherhood and once the table is set, he snaps a picture of it and sends it to Rude.
He gets a picture back of a picnic table loaded down with lobsters and roasted corn, and six gallons of sangria, a sunny beach in the background. His sentiment flags.
"Would be nice if we had power." Tifa mutters as she sits, finally, for the first time that day.
"Someone should inform the city engineer," Reeve suggests helpfully, refilling his sake.
"Yeah, power grid sucks, man."
"Dad! Stop hogging the potatoes."
"All right, everyone. Before we dig in, let's just take a moment to be thankful we're a family and together on a holiday, and think of those not with us, while Cid is with his family in Rocket Town, Yuffie is in Wutai, and—"
"Vincent and Rude are sitting around on a beach lanai while we are iced in with no power. I think my thoughts of them would give me an ulcer, yo."
Tifa glares at him through chestnut bangs and goes on. "Well, Happy Holidays to everyone and I, for one, am thankful to call all of you family." Glasses clink and dishes are passed around the table, and a contented silence falls.
The meal is done and the diners pass into a kind of gluttony coma. Gifts are opened; the adults sip on whiskey and the children on cocoa spiked with tiny drops of peppermint schnapps, because it is a holiday. They giggle with the prospect of sharing the adult's liquor, no matter how small the amount.
Cloud leans back into Reno's chest. "You know the two of you are welcome to stay the night," Tifa whispers in that maternal tone of hers, pulling the quilt a little higher over them. Reno, who hopes to knock off a "little piece of Winter Feast Ass," politely declines and wakes Cloud up before he fully drops off into slumber.
The walk back home is colder, and more slippery, owing to the alcohol in both their systems but the loft is warm from earlier, and welcoming. They slip out of their ice-damp clothing and quickly beneath thick blankets. Cool fingers begin to warm against naked skin.
"I love you," Reno whispers. He knows in his heart, he is impossibly blessed that he has found this. He captures Cloud's mouth with his own before he can reply and kisses him, rolling his hips down into shared hardness. "Want you."
Encased in a down cocoon, they grind into each other, alternating between kissing and touching. This is still new enough to be a little scary, a little too-bright to be looked at full-on but they try anyway. Reno lets Cloud roll him over until his slender body is pressed into the mattress by solid warmth, strong slicked fingers pushing up into him until he his pushing back and gasping with each stroke. Cloud slips little kisses down the tattoos under his eyes; he seems fascinated by the difference in the texture there, and follows cheekbone down to jaw, to lips, until he is bruised and wanting.
And then Cloud is inside him, and it is all stretching, and burning, and bliss. It doesn't take long, or maybe it takes longer than Reno thinks, before Cloud's hand is on him and his world is incoherent whiteness like the snow outside and he cries out. Cloud stiffens and comes inside him, he feels warmth inside and against himself and in his lover's breath on his neck and he can't believe, again, how good it all is, hiding his reaction in a little shiver.
"You okay?"
"Yeah."
"I'm glad you moved in." Cloud slurs from under the comforter.
"Whyzzat?" Sex and food have him drowsing.
"It's just different. With you here, that's all. More real." The moonlight reflects off the ice and bathes the room in a baby blue.
"Yeah," is Reno's only reply, again, and he wraps his thin body in flannel, and the warmth of his lover, and another year begins as he drifts off into sleep and what dreams may bring.