GOOD NIGHT by Kiraya

Disclaimer: If I owned the Final Fantasy VII franchise, OT3 would be canon, or damn close to it.

Notes: Belated birthday fic for the incomparable Bard Linn. Quickwriting challenge; unlike a lot of my fics, it hasn't sat fermenting on my hard drive for months before posting, so it might be a little rough in spots. Also, my Sephiroth muse has had a bit of a falling-out with his canon self, so if he seems a little weird or fluffy or OOC I apologise.


Having grown up in Nibelheim, Cloud slept as just about any mountain boy would, curled up tight with the covers pulled close about him to keep in the warmth, so that only the soft blond spikes of his hair were visible.

Zack, on the other hand, usually kicked off his blankets, sprawling in such a way as to take up as much of the bed as he possibly could, shifting restlessly every hour or so.

As for Sephiroth, he slept lightly and without moving during those short stretches he did slumber, all his years of training urging him to be ready to leap up into action at a moment's notice.

Unfortunately, none of them had really taken into account how sharing a bed would affect their sleeping habits.

It was pretty much the same every night. Cloud would carefully tuck just the edges of the blankets underneath himself, pulling his knees up close to his chest, while on Sephiroth's other side Zack would gracelessly flop on his stomach, and thus they'd settle down for the night, near enough to Sephiroth that he could still feel their presence, yet far enough that they weren't encroaching on his "anti-cuddle field," as Zack called it.

Of course, a few hours later Sephiroth would wake up with a sudden chill as Cloud, having instinctively scooted closer to the heat of another body, tugged the last of the blankets around himself, and by now Zack, having somehow managed to shove all of them dangerously close to the edge of the bed in the course of his tossing and turning, was always half on top of him, slow even breaths ghosting warm against the side of his neck.

For a moment Sephiroth would consider extricating himself from Zack's embrace to liberate at least some of the blankets from Cloud's iron grip, and maybe he could get himself a little more personal space while he was at it, because this was almost suffocating.

But then a contented sigh would emanate from the not-so-little blanket-cocoon containing Cloud as he scooted closer still, his blond hair tickling Sephiroth's chin. And then, as if in reply, Zack would mumble something indecipherable in his sleep, draping a possessive arm over the both of them.

And Sephiroth would just lie there in silence for a while, listening to the peaceful deep breathing of the only people he'd ever truly cared about, and then he'd allow himself the tiniest of smiles.

It really wasn't that suffocating after all, he supposed.

In fact, if he had to admit it, he might even have said it was rather… nice.


25 September 2006.