SUNDAY MORNING, 10 AM by Kiraya

Disclaimer: If it were mine, we'd have Zack and Seph in the party, too. And we'd have Reeve himself instead of Cait Sith. And the game would be chock full of Tifa/Aeris overtones. And Advent Children would've had more Zack. And… oh, hell, I'm sure you get the point.

Warnings: Tooth-rotting, unrepentant fluff. Relatively well-adjusted Cloud. Almost-normal Sephiroth. Zack. Implied sex of the man-on-man-on-man variety.

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Sephiroth dozed.

His internal clock insisted that he should've been out of bed at least an hour ago. However, Zack was finger-combing his hair again, and since they had today off, he decided there was really nothing wrong with just lying there and enjoying it…

There was a stirring beside him, and those wonderful hands paused in their work.

"Good morning, sunshine," said a soft voice, behind and slightly above him.

A contented sigh. "Good morning."

It wasn't long before Cloud's voice sounded again in a reverent whisper. "He's beautiful when he's sleeping like this, isn't he?"

"Yeah, he is," came the reply, and Sephiroth was sure he could hear Zack's smile in it.

The three of them lay there in silence for a while, Sephiroth maintaining the pretence of sleep, Zack gently grooming him, Cloud apparently content to simply watch.

After a moment, a second pair of hands took one of the long pale locks tucked behind Sephiroth's ear and began running careful fingers through it. "I still can't believe he manages to keep it this soft," Cloud marvelled.

A chuckle. "Why not? You've seen how he is about his hair."

"Mmm, true."

"…He loves this, you know," Zack commented quietly. His hands had stopped their combing and were now just running softly over those smooth silvery strands. "It's one of the few simple, little things he lets himself indulge in."

"Hmm… We'll have to see if we can work on that, won't we?"

"That's my boy," said Zack approvingly. A mischievous note crept into his voice. "You want to see something that really makes him kittenish, though?"

Disbelief was plain in Cloud's echoed reply. "'Kittenish'?"

"Just watch." And those delightfully skilled hands sunk into Sephiroth's hair, right at the roots, and began gently massaging his scalp.

There was just something about Zack's massages that always sent Sephiroth right into a agreeably dreamy sort of lassitude, especially when he started on the neck like that… mmm, yes. As engrossed in it as Sephiroth was, he hardly noticed the low rumbling noise of pleasure that started up deep in his chest.

Until Cloud smothered a laugh. "He's actually purring," he noted gleefully.

"Am not," Sephiroth insisted, his eyes still closed in enjoyment.

Zack grinned down at him. "And a warm welcome to the world of the living, your royal Laziness! I was wondering if you'd ever deign to inform us of your presence, or if you'd just decided to pretend to sleep all day."

"Hmph. You seemed to be doing just fine without me."

Zack assumed a tragic expression. "How could you say such a thing? Every moment I spend languishing from lack of your angelic voice burns to the quick, like Ifrit's fiery wrath—"

"You're so full of it," Cloud informed him.

Sephiroth smiled, drawing him closer. "That's my boy."

"Traitor," Zack said accusingly, pouting at Cloud over Sephiroth's shoulder.

"I speak only the truth, sir," came the solemn reply.

"Yeah, and Seph's mom was a chocobo."

"…what?"

A sigh. "Never mind." He muttered something under his breath.

"Care to share that with the rest of the class?" Sephiroth asked dryly.

Zack thought about it. "Nope, not particularly," he decided, offering a cheerful grin instead.

"We could torture it out of him…" Cloud suggested.

Sephiroth raised one delicate eyebrow. "What exactly did you have in mind?"

Cloud leaned over to whisper in Sephiroth's ear, Zack watching them warily. He maintained admirable composure even when they finally turned on him wearing identical devious smiles. "Oh Zack…"

In their defence, they did make it out of bed in time for lunch… though Sephiroth's insistence on showering first led to a series of further delays.

At least they made it to dinner.

--

Fin.

4 January 2006.