Pairing: Rufus/Sephiroth
AN: This will be a series of unlinked Rufus/Sephiroth one shots, of varying lengths and themes.
Requested by: OvenBased
Warnings: Violence and hints of a male/male relationship
Summary: Rufus's first sight of Sephiroth

The boy noticed him the second he first saw him, standing to watch one of his father's well planned and rehearsed shows of strength. Amongst the crowd of enhanced men, one stood out. He was curious enough to step away from Tseng, his ever present blue shadow, to gain a closer look. He watched, fascinated, at each well practiced action, every wave of the immaculate silver hair. The long blade swung and blood flowered out from his opponent, spreading across the other's body, but the magnificent hair remained untainted.

It took his breath away, and the rest of the world seemed to fade, with that man being all that mattered. The boy watched every movement, smiling vacantly as he watched the warrior fight. Tseng pushed his shoulder. It took him a moment to realise that it was a signal for him to look away from the enthralling warrior, and to instead approach his hated cretin of a father.

He walked over and stood beside him, leaning to listen to his father's words. It didn't matter if he heard or not, or what he thought, what mattered was that he was seen by the world to be valued by his father, someone he would consider consulting. Neither of them paid the other any interest, unless his father was angry and they were alone. Tseng would always be there to heal him afterwards. This time his father was saying something about a war, destruction. He guessed it would be Wutai again. A chance for his father to cause pain, order death and brutality to innocent civilians and proud fighters alike. That was good, his father was less likely to cause any injury to him, or act badly towards him, if he could exercise his impotent fury over someone else.

His father may have been powerful, in control of most of the world, but he was weak, the total opposite of the man who stood proudly before him. Though the fascinating silver haired General was physically unbeatable, he was still his father's possession, and therefore indirectly Rufus's. He wanted to be the one to control that strength, to influence him. His breath caught in his throat at the thought of being the one to order that man, to choose when he should fight, when he should win, when he should die. He would be able to, one day, when his oaf of a father was dead…

He didn't want to wait. His smirk widened as he leant against his father, ignoring his words, his mind elsewhere. He was imagining whispering a death-command, an order to take the current president's life, into that delicate, well sculpted ear. Brushing that silken cascade of hair aside so that his tongue could trace the path of his words, seeing the other man remain stoic and emotionless against him. Breaking down those barriers, seeing more of that faultless skin as they plotted his father's death. It felt amazing.