Sleeping for Two
Part One: My Side of the Bed
By S.J. Kohl
Angeal/Sephiroth
PG-13

Summary: Sephiroth can't go back to his own room.
Warnings: Underage. Seph's fifteen.
Disclaimer: FFVII and all incarnations thereof are not mine.

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"No."

Sephiroth stared. "No?"

"Absolutely not."

"Why?"

Angeal looked at Sephiroth, scanned up and down that slender, toned, half-grown body. He swallowed hard and shook his head again. "Just…no."

"You have to give me a reason."

"You're fifteen."

Sephiroth shifted his weight from one foot to the other, head cocked at a very slight angle as he peered thoughtfully at Angeal. "What does that have to do with anything?"

Angeal sighed. What had he done? Shiva's Filthy Mouth but he must have done something terrible in his last life. "It's reason enough, Sephiroth."

"But…I can't go back to my room."

Angeal drew in a deep breath and studied the carefully blank expression on Sephiroth's face. He scowled. He didn't want to ask. If he asked, then inevitably he'd have to say yes, and he didn't want to do that. Angeal chewed his lip, considered. Blew out a cold breath of air. Asked. "Why not?"

"I…" Sephiroth's expression didn't change, but Angeal noted the telltale flicker in his eyes. "…lost my key."

"You lost your key?"

Sephiroth nodded.

Angeal gave up. He drew his glasses down off his nose and set them carefully on the bedside table, along with the book he'd been reading before Sephiroth came into the room. He didn't really need the glasses anymore, hadn't needed them since the third round of mako injections, but old habits did die hard, as the saying went. He liked them. They were familiar. Sighing softly, Angeal pulled himself away from the comfortable nest of pillows behind him and leaned forward, crossing his legs at the knees and indicating with a flicker of his own eyes that Sephiroth should take a seat on the bed.

Sephiroth sat.

Angeal fixed him with as stern a glare as he could manage, but he couldn't really keep it up. He'd taken a liking to the kid over the years. Too much of a liking, actually. For all that Seph was no more than four years younger than he was, he was still only fifteen years old. Angeal swallowed, and glared some more. "You don't lose things."

Sephiroth didn't answer.

"Your key is in your pocket," Angeal continued. "Where it always is. So tell me…why can't you go back to your room?"

Sephiroth looked at Angeal. He slid closer, until one leg was nearly touching Angeal's crossed knees. He spoke softly, his voice hardly more than a deep whisper. "They've given me a roommate."

"A roommate?" Angeal's lip curled. Sephiroth didn't need a roommate. He was a private person, like Angeal, like Genesis. They all liked their space, needed their space. But Angeal and Genesis weren't fifteen years old. They were qualified Soldiers now, First Class and G-Class; no one would be stupid enough to take their rooms away from them. Sephiroth, though…he was still a child, or a minor, at least. And he wasn't really even a part of the Soldier program. He was…different. Which must be why they're doing it. They want him to be a Soldier, so they'll run him through the training with everyone else. Get him used to…what? Being around other people? Whatever. Angeal snorted and studied Sephiroth. Pale skin, the perfect complement to that dark blue cadet's uniform someone had forced him into.

Angeal snorted again—Sephiroth, a cadet. He could already take down Angeal one time out of every three, and it wouldn't be too long before his skill and muscle control caught up to his strength and he was winning all the time.

The eyes…they were large, a brilliant green that glowed bright with mako in the dark, just like Angeal's, and they were young and old all at once, captivating, knowing but innocent. Sephiroth was innocent, for all that he'd made his first kill at thirteen, when they'd started sending him out on missions with Angeal and Sephiroth. He was…breathtaking. Angeal had always thought so, that silver hair falling around his face like woven moonlight, and those eyes…that mouth… Angeal swallowed. He was going to hell. He cleared his throat. "Sephiroth…"

"Angeal?"

"You know staying in my room for the night won't help you."

"I know." Sephiroth shrugged. "But it would get me out of my room for tonight, at least."

"Is your roommate that bad?"

"Not so bad," Sephiroth shrugged again. He looked down, and Angeal withered inside just a little bit. Sephiroth never had trouble looking people in the eye. "He's fourteen. Bigger than I am, though, taller. Big muscles. I think he did construction work with his father."

Angeal didn't speak when Sephiroth fell silent. He did that sometimes, just cut himself off sharply, but it was easy to tell when he still had something more to say, and he always picked back up again if you waited long enough.

"There've been stories, Angeal. About the missions…" Sephiroth's fingers dug into the bed's white sheet. "He's afraid of me. They assigned him to my room three days ago, and he won't even look at me. He flinches every time I come in the door, or get up from the bed, or even reach for something on the table between us… He only speaks if I ask a direct question, and he mumbles his answers into his chin. It's like…he's afraid I'll gut him if he doesn't answer." Sephiroth laughed. "He called me 'sir,' Angeal. Sir."

Angeal breathed. He breathed and struggled to control the urge to strangle this unknown recruit. Sephiroth was a fifteen-year-old boy, not some monster to kill or flee. Angeal didn't think, wasn't even aware of moving. But he did move. He leaned forward and ran a hand through Sephiroth's liquid silver hair and around to his chin, tipping it up, tilting those green eyes up to meet his. Then he smiled and moved again, and kissed, kissed Sephiroth soft on the lips. Not quite a chaste kiss, not quite…anything, really. Just a kiss, only a kiss, but Angeal might die. He pulled back, almost trembling. Yes, he might die…and then he was definitely going straight to hell. He was hot already, his face burning, and he thought he might be blushing. "I, um…I…"

Sephiroth looked at him, eyes glittering and inscrutable. Then he smiled, like he'd come to some realization, made some kind of decision. Angeal couldn't begin to imagine what it was. "Angeal…"

Angeal cleared his throat, looked away. "Hmm?"

And then Sephiroth was moving, pushing Angeal backward and kissing him, hands on his hips and tongue hot, hungry, needy. And then he was gone without any warning at all and Angeal was alone, panting and wanting, at the head of the bed, and Sephiroth was just sitting, smiling to himself, back in his place at Angeal's knees. He held out his fist, palm up, and opened it to show…what?

Angeal leaned forward and saw…a key. His key, he realized. The brat must have taken it from his pocket while he was… Angeal looked from Sephiroth to the key and back again to Sephiroth, wondering.

Sephiroth's smile widened, showing just a hint of pointed teeth. "Roommate problem solved."

Angeal opened his mouth to protest, but Sephiroth was already tucking the key into his own pocket and moving across the bed, pulling back the covers on that side and sliding comfortably between them. He grinned at Angeal, his eyes bright. "This is my side of the bed."

Angeal blinked, stared at that mouth, that…mouth. Blinked again. Perhaps he didn't have to go to hell after all. Maybe he was already there.