Author: Lumivalkea
Disclaimer: I no own, wish I did. Squeenix has it all, including my soul.
Length: Drabble, 570ish words.
Warnings: WAFF, shonen-ai.
Rating: PG-13 Summary: Pre-Nibelheim, Cloud, Sunday morning.
Pairings: SephirothxCloud implied I suppose?
It is a rare morning. Rare because there is no rush, no one yelling at him or pulling him to the floor from his bunk. Rare because of the soft and warm feeling wrapping around him. Cloud savours this feeling, revels in it. He is barely awake, just enough to be aware of his surroundings. The bed isn't his own, it is far too big and soft, the sheets too fine, the covers so warm.
Cloud curls up tighter for a moment, then stretches out, at the same time becoming aware of the presence next to him. He cracks his eyes open, just enough to reveal a sliver of shimmering blue, as he takes in the sea of silver surrounding him. The morning sun's rays play with the strands, turning them into mercury. He breathes in deep, taking in the scent he knows so well, closing his eyes again for a moment. He reaches out his hand to play with the waves of silver, to twirl a lock of that hair around his fingers, then carefully moves closer to the source of strands, moving them out of the way so he won't tug on them and disturb their owner as he crawls toward the silver haired angel. Sometimes the other man lets Cloud comb and braid his hair before going to bed. The touch of that hair, running a comb through it, is almost religious - divine - to Cloud. He doesn't want to miss any opportunity to touch that cascade of silver, let it fall through his fingers.
The older man is still sleeping peacefully. Cloud doesn't get this chance often, to study the finely sculpted features, to drink in the expression that for once isn't stern and remote. The wall the silver haired man keeps up isn't there when he's asleep. Cloud wants to touch that face, to run his fingers along the line of the jaw, now relaxed, so unlike its usual tight set. To touch the brow that isn't frowning, and slide his fingertips down the graceful nose.
Cloud almost reaches his hand, almost touches the older man's cheek, but lets his hand fall at the last moment. He knows the man is a light sleeper, and he doesn't want this moment to break. Instead, he gently snuggles closer, to feel the warmth emanating from the man, careful not to disturb him. Cloud lies on his side, arm under his head, propped up slightly to give him a better view.
The man sighs in his sleep, and Cloud holds his breath, afraid he has awakened his angel. The jade eyes don't open, breathing is still even, and Cloud relaxes again, exhaling quietly. He could swear the silver haired man is almost smiling in his sleep. Cloud feels a swelling in his chest, as if his heart is ready to burst with the emotion. He can't comprehend what he has done to merit having an angel within his reach, such perfection just inches away. Cloud lays his head on the pillow, silky silver strands pooling everywhere around him like some exotic fabric. To him, nothing can compare with this moment. He lies next to an angel brought to flesh, and at least for this moment, the angel is all his, the moment is all his, and he wants it to last forever.
One perfect moment, stretched out in eternity, gold and silver mixing in the rays of the morning sun.