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Angeal likes his job. He’s good at his job, he’s important here and as he’s climbed the ranks he’s only ever found it more rewarding. SOLDIER First Class is an honor that he proudly bears no matter the weight. He loves it here, thrives here, can’t think of anything else in the world he could really be doing with his life that would be fulfilling like this.
It’s just that the office work is boring as fuck.
Necessary. Absolutely necessary of course. There’s no reason to put someone else in charge of his reports or lesson plans or the assessments and re-assessments. He only has to hash it out once or twice to type them up himself when he does knuckle down and get through it. Plus the whole security clearance thing is a nightmare when it’s important and mostly just chaps your ass when it’s the more mundane stuff. All things that come with the privileges of his position- great power and great responsibility and all that.
Still.
Angeal allows himself a very long but only slightly dramatic sigh. He’d left his office door open a while ago in the hopes that someone would need something or want something, but everyone seems to be focused on their work or focused on pretending like they’re focused on their work. Everyone who has strode past his door clearly has somewhere to be and the ones who did have a bit more time had only managed a friendly wave or a knock to the door frame in passing. Time has been crawling through the mud all day and seems to be losing momentum every second.
...it’s 4:36. Last time he checked it was 4:31. Angeal is off the clock at 5:00 barring any emergencies, so he just has to hang on for another 24 minutes. Actually, less than that with however many seconds have passed. He watches the little clock in the corner of his desktop until it reads 4:37. Only 23 minutes now.
Perhaps the longest 23 minutes of his life. 22 minutes and some seconds.
Angeal rakes a hand through his hair and lets it fall right back into place, tries to look anywhere but the time. He has been through much, much worse, but trying to make the time pass is always going to be impossible. Focusing on it like this is only going to make it more torturous.
Genesis had messaged him five- actually eight, now that he’s checking his PHS again- minutes ago to announce his return, but he’s stuck in medical with his own Thirds and still needs to report back to Lazard anyway so there’s no chance for him to come to Angeal’s rescue. Sephiroth hasn’t responded to either of them in their little three-way message all day, but he’d been wrangled into something with President Shinra earlier in the week and has barely had the time to check his PHS if it’s ever even come out of his pocket the past few days.
Usually Angeal barely has time for his own device, and the next time he’s being put through his paces with a gaggle of souped up teenagers he’s going to be wishing for ‘bored at the office’.
It’s 4:41.
The siren song of solitaire only gets louder.
But Future Angeal will appreciate the empty paper shredder and the freshly organized file cabinet. Future Angeal will quite possibly literally have to kill to sit in his comfortable office chair and not have to do several things all at once. The problem is that Present Angeal is going to lose every one of his marbles waiting for the day to end.
Angeal sighs again and tries very hard not to check the clock again. There really isn’t much else to do; he’s somehow run out of emails and he’s always on top of keeping his schedule filled out and annotated so he can’t even pass the time writing reminders or following up with someone. It’s getting close to recruiting season and he’s got a few interviews tomorrow so getting to bed early won’t be a bad idea… Genesis will probably agree to an early night as well after his own fiascoes. Wanting Sephiroth home is a near constant and doesn’t happen often enough for any of their liking, but Angeal can only hope that after most of the week he can get let go of at a reasonable time…
“Angeal.”
Think of the devil. Angeal looks up and doesn’t even try to hide his smile when he sees Sephiroth taking up the entire doorway. “Hey,” he says, though his good mood is slightly dampened when he processes just how tired Sephiroth looks. At least he has one boyfriend secured for the evening. Most likely. Angeal’s suddenly no longer bored enough to be wishing for a sudden call to action.
Sephiroth’s mouth quirks up the tiniest bit, but then drops back to a too stiff neutral too quickly. Sephiroth looks both ways down the hall before stepping into Angeal’s office. He closes the door behind him and says nothing. Angeal can’t read his expression or his body language properly when he’s like this.
Angeal forces himself to stay seated when he asks, “is everything alright?”
“Yes,” Sephiroth responds, but he won’t make eye contact. He looks somewhere around Angeal’s shoulder and the far corner of his desk.
“Are you sure..?”
“Yes.” Then he leans over and pulls the blinds closed and Angeal does not believe him.
“Sephiroth.”
Sephiroth still refuses to look at him directly. It’s easy, at least, to tell when he’s trying to fight hiding behind his bangs. He’s currently losing the fight.
“I am.” Sephiroth tsks, annoyed with himself. He squares his shoulders and stares a hole in the wall. “I suppose I am… feeling a bit. Silly.”
Angeal’s brain starts, then stops, then tries very hard to start properly again. “Silly,” he repeats slowly. Sephiroth’s jaw works as he grinds his teeth. “You are. Feeling. Silly. ” Goddess, he can’t just take Sephiroth to medical-
“Perhaps.” Sephiroth sounds genuinely pained, like he didn’t expect saying that he’s feeling silly wouldn’t cause some kind of reaction from anyone on Gaia. “Embarrassed is a better word. Even more so now.”
Angeal leans onto his elbows on his desk, tilts his head like if he can’t catch Sephiroth’s eye then maybe looking at him close to sideways will reveal something. “But are you okay?”
“Yes,” Sephiroth snaps. “I.” He sighs. “Close your eyes.”
“Close my-” Sephiroth finally looks at him, flushed high and red on his cheeks. Angeal can’t even properly appreciate the sight. “Sephiroth, what’s happening.” He's too overwhelmed to make it a question.
It’s like every word is being punched out of Sephiroth when he does speak after several agonizing seconds. “I have… something for you. And I thought it would be nice. For it to be a surprise.”
Angeal’s heart thumps in an entirely different way. He knows Sephiroth can hear it, just as easily as he can see the heat rising to his face. It feels like he’s been put in a bag and shaken around by an overzealous child.
“You got me a present?” He asks, and is suddenly grateful for the closed door. His voice hasn’t been this small in a long while.
Sephiroth might actually prove the rumors right just to gain laser vision and burn a real hole in the wall for him to escape through. “I made-” he presses his hands to his temples with a gusting sigh. “Just turn around, Angeal.”
Love goes molten in Angeal’s veins. It takes him a bit to remember how to use his mouth correctly. “You made-”
“Angeal,” Sephiroth growls.
Angeal can’t help the laughter that bubbles out of him and he waves a hand furiously to keep Sephiroth’s attention from where he’s clearly about to bolt. “I’m not laughing at you,” Angeal promises, slightly breathless. “I’m surprised, I’m just- aw Seph-”
“I’m leaving,” Sephiroth spins on his heel and reaches for the door. “See you tomorrow.”
“No!” Angeal whips around so fast his poor chair squeaks. “I’m not looking! I’m not looking.” He claps both hands over his eyes for good measure and breathes deeply to quell his delighted laughter. “I swear I’m not teasing you, Seph, I’m sorry.”
Silence. He can still hear Sephiroth breathing and the door hasn’t opened yet, so Angeal stays put. It’s hard to get an idea of the best way to react when he can’t get a visual read on Sephiroth. He swallows down the urge to fill the quiet with more chatter and chews at the inside of his lip instead.
Sephiroth’s eventual footsteps are nearly silent, but Angeal is focusing so hard he can hear the swish of his coat and the leather creaking in his boots. Another long pause, and then something too light to pinpoint is placed on his desk that scrapes softly against the calendar place-mat.
A few beats pass. Both of their hearts are going too hard and too fast for how completely still they are, but neither is ready to be first to move. Angeal really things he might burst if it goes on any longer but he can’t bring himself to move before he’s given some sort of signal. He does perk up to sitting fully upright when he hears Sephiroth take a step and half backward, but he keeps himself obediently blind and waits for something to happen.
But then the tension stretches on, and Angeal can’t help himself. “Don’t run off,” he pleads.
“I’m not.” Sephiroth’s voice is soft, barely any louder than the whirring AC unit. It’s too easy to imagine what he might look like right now- what his expression is like or how deeply he’s tucking away behind his hair. More soft leather sounds. Is he clenching his fists or crossing his arms over his chest? It always kills Angeal to see him like that, when he has to resort to holding himself and tries so hard to be small. Especially when Sephiroth melts into Angeal’s arms so easily now. It’s even worse that by the time Sephiroth had been able to stomach affection he had already hit that final growth spurt and now he has a few inches on Angeal and-
His present.
“Can I look?” Angeal asks. Gods, who knows how long he might have sat here thinking about Sephiroth instead of actually interacting with him like a normal person. Embarrassing.
Sephiroth laughs this time, though it’s just a sneering like snk. “No. Suffer.”
And Angeal’s immediate response to being snarked at is to give it right back. He drops his hands from his face and turns back around before he can think about it, the pull to see Sephiroth’s face when he gives him shit too strong to resist. “Come on,” he starts, but a splash of unfamiliar color- his present!!!- drags his gaze downward and stops his thoughts dead.
Angeal is going to explode.
In the middle of his desk sits a paper flower, a clumsy little tulip made from dusty blue paper. It’s attached to a cut down bendy-straw from the mess hall, one of the ones with green stripes on the side instead of the yellow or blue ones. Angeal stares down at it with his mouth hanging slightly open, his breath caught in his throat.
Very, very carefully, he brushes his thumb against the curled edge of one of the petals. His gloves had come off a while ago, so he can appreciate the texture of the paper properly. The paper it’s made from is a bit thicker than regular copy paper, but isn’t as heavy and wobbly as the what gets used for official documents.
“You got me flowers,” he murmurs, soft and awed.
“One flower,” Sephiroth mutters. He’s hiding just as much as Angeal anticipated when he does finally look up, standing there with his arms crossed over his chest and his gaze fixed firmly on the wall. His face is hidden, but it’s too easy to see the vibrant pink of his ears. “You and Genesis mentioned hobbies, but I haven’t had much time to practice.” He swallows noisily. Angeal keeps looking up at Sephiroth and then back down to the tulip. “Origami seemed… interesting enough.”
Angeal is going to explode explode explode.
Maybe getting his emotional is a bit stupid, but Angeal has to work his jaw for a moment and actively try to breathe to get himself in line. He and Genesis have both brought up constructive hobbies several times over the years, but he can’t exactly remember the last time the subject came up. Weeks ago? Maybe closer to months.
“You made me a flower.” And who even knows when. It’s no masterpiece, and it’s straw stem is too short to really make it look like a true flower. The color is also impossible, but the idea of Sephiroth sitting down and glaring at origami instructions the way he usually does when he’s faced with something challenging, but to create something so small and delicate…
Sephiroth’s fingers are longer than Angeal’s, a bit slimmer- dainty when Genesis is teasing- though Angeal’s palms are wider than his. Both of them have a hard enough time holding a pen comfortably enough, Angeal can’t imagine what it’s like to work this precisely, to curl the paper just right and to make the four petals identical like this.
It’s too much. Angeal feels the heat swallow him up all over again and he puts his face back in his hand. He surrenders to a few more helpless giggles because he’s somehow gotten lucky enough that Sephiroth of all people spends time folding paper for him. “I’m kissing you,” he says because he can’t get up and do it right now and scare Sephiroth off with the PDA. And he’s been a bit lazy about sweeping his office since Genesis and Sephiroth have been so unavailable lately. “I’m kissing you, I’m kissing you.”
“Then clock out already.” There’s the curve of a smile just at the edges of Sephiroth’s voice. “It’s past 5:00.”
“Wait, really?” Angeal fans his fingers to look at his desktop. 5:04! “Gods, finally.” He’s never navigated his login page so quickly, though he does his usual checks to make sure it goes through before standing. “Though I was going to lose my mind before you got here.”
Sephiroth just hums and shifts his weight to one foot, his own little show of impatience while he waits for Angeal to pat his pockets down to make sure nothing has walked away from him.
Keys, wallet, PHS, gloves, badge, mostly empty pack of gum… everything is where it should be, but Angeal turns his attention to his tulip and purses his lips while he thinks. It would be nice to keep it here in his office to keep him company, but it being a gift from Sephiroth makes him want to keep it away from anyone else’s sight. His slightly struggling living plants in here are a bit famous with anyone who stops by, but a too small and too blue addition will draw attention he doesn’t want to share.
With painstaking care, Angeal picks up his gift by the straw stem. He rotates it slowly to admire it before cradling it in both of his hands. It’s just so small, he could easily carry it in one hand with little to no issue, but he can’t bear the idea of it being rumpled or accidentally smushed. Angeal rounds his desk, but stops a half step from Sephiroth.
There’s no telling how many people they’ll pass on the way to elevators, and to be carrying something in his hands like this will no doubt catch attention. He supposes he could lie and say its a bug of some sort he’s going to transport outside, but Angeal has been yearning for home for hours now and this little surprise has only made the desire stronger.
Plus he can’t risk any of it making Sephiroth feel any more embarrassed or observed. If Sephiroth hits his limit tonight Angeal would much rather be able to offer him an arm to hide under at best or 15 minutes in the bathroom alone at worst.
He opens his hands to Sephiroth, offering the tulip back. “Will you carry it for me?” He asks, weaponizing the few inches Sephiroth has on him to look up through his lashes. Six feet and five inches of Puppy Eyes is his strongest weapon, so of course he’ll use it against SOLDIER’s finest. “My pockets are full and if I crush this I might start crying.”
Sephiroth rolls his eyes. His teeth flash for just a moment when he doesn’t fight a smile as hard as he usually does. “I would just make you another one. It’s a 20 Gil pack of paper.”
It’s a total Sephiroth answer, straight to the throat and dismissive. It still makes Angeal’s sinuses burn in that way they do right before he needs to try really hard not to keep his eyes from watering. “But I want this one,” he insists like a child. Gods. Get it together, SOLDIER. Angeal takes a deep breath and powers through it. The least he can give Sephiroth in return is to show him how flustered he is over this. “You made it for me and I am asking you very nicely to keep it safe until we get home.”
Sephiroth’s responding laugh is soft and throaty, and he’s smiling. Angeal is about to risk it all just to kiss him senseless right here- cameras and passerby and everyone else in the world be damned.
“Very well.” Sephiroth plucks the flower from Angeal’s hand and tucks it into his coat, slow and careful and just a bit smug. “Are you finally ready to leave, or do you need some overtime approved?”
“Shut up.” Angeal kicks at his foot before taking the step past him to get to the door, hefting the Buster up onto his back where it attaches heavy and comfortable to the harness. “Never been more ready in my life.”
He opens the door and lets Sephiroth out first, and despite the teasing Sephiroth waits patiently for him to lock up and triple check before leading the way to the elevators. They walk side by side, usually Angeal feels a bit bad making a double-wide like this, but they’ve missed most of the initial rush and this is about as close to holding hands as they can get in public.
There are a few stragglers like always, and most of them pick up on the obvious pep in Angeal’s step. Sephiroth makes for excellent small talk repellent, however, so it keeps the trip as short as possible. Angeal offers his usual waves and smiles and goodbyes to those who call out or nod at them in passing. He needs to get some of this affection out to keep from bowling Sephiroth over the second they get to their floor and into one of their apartments.
Managing to snag an empty elevator is a blessing and a curse. The breathing room is nice, and Angeal doesn’t have to worry about looking too overtly smitten in the privacy of the car. He really is kind of considering punching out the camera or something just to be able to get an arm around Sephiroth’s waist for the minute or two they’ll be in here. He crosses his arms to keep himself from doing anything stupid.
“Yours or Gen’s?” Sephiroth asks, eyes trained on the little segment counter that counts higher and higher towards the residential floor.
“Pretty sure Genesis is gonna want a minute or two to himself once they set him loose.” Angeal taps his foot in time with the floor counter. Hauling themselves up the stairwells would have been faster, probably, but they always get shit for it and there’s almost always someone hiding out in there or just trying to get their steps in that they scare the hell out of.
Still. It’s a long ride.
It looks like Sephiroth is considering the same, at least. Unfortunately an elevator can’t be intimidated into running faster. “Yours it is then.” His eyes flick over to Angeal lightning quick, the slightest thread of tension pulling him taught. Angeal raises his eyebrows in question, and Sephiroth turns back to the floor counter. “Is there still leftover spaghetti?”
Angeal laughs, a surprised bark that’s too loud for the enclosed space. He lets his smile hurt his cheeks and crinkle up the corners of his eyes. “Plenty,” he says, completely overcome with emotion. “Got the stuff for garlic bread too, if you want.”
“Excellent,” is all Sephiroth says, but he moves very quickly when the elevator dings and they’ve landed on their floor. He uses his longer stride to his advantage, and Angeal wonders if he’ll even get to make it to his own door before he melts into a puddle and seeps into the carpet. Or explodes all over the walls. Whichever comes first.
He catches up quickly- and if he jogs just a bit then that’s his own business- and manages to keep himself together to get his key card out and unlock his door. Sephiroth stands a bit too close, but if anyone is even paying attention to the hall cameras at this point then that’s their problem. Sephiroth’s enthusiasm for pasta is a close rival to his concepts of personal space anyway.
Angeal holds the door open for him and tucks right behind Sephiroth to step inside. The door hasn’t even closed all the way, but Angeal sets his sword into its wall mount and reaches for Sephiroth’s waist as soon as he has the chance. He can’t remember the last time it felt this dire to have him close, not without it being somewhere on the field and charged by fear. Now it just feels like all of the affection and joy he’s ever felt is going to jump out of him if he doesn’t have Sephiroth to help physically hold it in.
His wrist is brushing up against Sephiroth’s stomach guard when Sephiroth stiffens and grabs to stop him in his tracks. “Wait,” he says.
Angeal does, warring with the unexpected rejection and the little thorn of hurt until he realizes that Sephiroth is reaching into the inner pockets of his coat to retrieve the flower.
Or rather, flowers. Sephiroth places the tulip on the console table by the door that holds the contents of Angeal’s pockets, and then reaches in again to retrieve an equally small and precious origami flower. The twisting folds are easy to recognize as a rose, the color of the paper such a deep maroon it borders on purple in the warm light of the entryway. This one is also attached to a straw, though it has a crudely cut leaf attached with a pearl of hot glue. Some of the folds have been reworked to the point of feathering the paper a bit. The second the rose is deposited and safe from any accidents Angeal is pulling Sephiroth in, squeezing him tight enough to make his spine pop in a few places.
“You are so fucking cute,” Angeal mutters into Sephiroth’s neck, feeling vicious about it. He nuzzles his cheek against the sensitive skin there just to see the goosebumps bloom. Sephiroth only squirms a little, but he does rest his arms around Angeal’s shoulders to return the hug. “Thank you,” Angeal says softer this time. He bumps his nose against Sephiroth’s jaw, and can’t resist kissing his cheek. “Genesis is going to love it. I love it.”
“I can tell.” Sephiroth is looking away, but he settles into Angeal’s warmth centimeter by centimeter. He turns to face him properly when Angeal makes good on his word and goes in for a proper kiss to his mouth, and takes a few of his own for good measure. The world shrinks down to barely a foot into Angeal’s apartment where they’re pressed from shoulder to hip, still in their boots. The only reason the Buster had made its way to its proper spot is on reflex alone, and it’d be too hard to get an actual embrace with it in the way.
Sephiroth’s sides are warm under Angeal’s hands and his cheeks are soft under his lips and against his temple when he stops to breathe it all in and collect himself. Sephiroth seems more than content to stand here and let Angeal pet his thumbs against his ribs, breathing soft and even and in tune with the rise and fall of Angeal’s chest. Maybe he had been more excited about finally having some privacy instead of a purely spaghetti induced enthusiasm, though it’s probably a combination of the two. Angeal is pretty hungry now that he thinks about it.
Not hungry enough to move if Sephiroth isn’t, though. He even allows Angeal to rock them slightly from side to side. It’s too good to let go right now, so Angeal lets the world stay small for a while. He’s staring at the flowers sitting next to each other and wondering just how hard it might be to learn how to make one himself to round out their little trio when a staccato buzz comes from his back pocket and another from the inside of Sephiroth’s coat.
Angeal reaches in for him and pulls Sephiroth’s PHS free, hands it to him and then goes right back to holding him. “Please tell me it’s Gen and not anything else.”
Sephiroth’s responding hmph of a laugh rumbles against Angeal as he responds to the message. “It is Genesis and not anything else.” Angeal ignores the bzzt bzzt bzzt in his pocket when it fires off again. “Says he’ll be up in ten minutes unless,” a pause, then the sound of his PHS unlocking so he can read the message aloud, “’Unless one more thing happens’ and he has to ‘level the entire sector to get some fucking peace.’” Another buzz hits Angeal’s pocket. Sephiroth lets loose another huffing laugh. “He is also asking for spaghetti.”
Angeal buries his own laughter in Sephiroth’s shoulder and gives him one more crushing squeeze before letting him go to bend down and untie his boots. “Let’s go save the entire sector then. And my flower.” He sets his boots in their spot under the console table, takes just a few extra seconds to admire the rose and the tulip more closely. “Mostly my flower.”
Sephiroth steps out of his own boots and hangs up his coat, humming with amusement as he pulls off his stomach guard. “SOLDIER First Class Angeal Hewley, placing a piece of paper above thousands of people.” He walks past Angeal towards the hall that leads to the bedroom where he’s obviously planning to steal one of Angeal’s shirts. “Make sure that doesn’t leak to the press.”
“Important paper, asshole,” Angeal calls after him. “And there’s a straw on it too.”
Sephiroth is pulling his arms through the sleeves of a Henley while he walks back to the kitchen to perch and wait for his chance to pounce on dinner. “I suppose I’ve forgotten the value of a bendy straw, then. My apologies.”
Angeal reaches out to pinch his bare side while he still can, but Sephiroth sidesteps too fast for his eyes to track. “Yeah, it’s the straw.” Angeal rolls his eyes, but he can’t stop smiling. “Now shut up and help me or you’re just as responsible for us all going down.”