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With his new duties, freshly-promoted rank, and general increased involvement with his Superior, Saïx was spending far more time in Xemnas’s room, these days. He’d seen the kitchenette plenty of times by now, tucked away neatly in a corner of the large, private room with its clinically-white appliances, but assumed it was for show more than anything else.
“Our numbers are fair, this week, sir, though we’re still looking at fewer Heartless slain than I would like,” Saïx was droning, attention affixed to his clipboard. He had begun coming to Xemnas’s room directly for reports and debriefings, which Xemnas did not seem to mind; it removed the extra step of him having to go to his office. “I have Xaldin going out on a recon mission to a new world tomorrow, which I hope will—”
“You haven't eaten anything today.” The low, flat interruption sent Saïx’s gears grinding to a halt, sparking with mild irritation. For being the Superior, Xemnas always seemed so blasé about the progress, or lack thereof, that Saïx came to report. But if there was one thing Saïx had learned by now, it was that Xemnas did not possess the same single-minded drive towards the Organization’s end goals that he did.
“It’s no problem, sir. I'm not hungry,” said Saïx, a lie made blatant by a growl of protestation coming from his empty belly. He often forgot to eat, or otherwise pushed it off; it was a tedious task, one that took time from his work on other, more important things, and he begrudged its necessity. Besides, how did Xemnas even know whether or not he’d eaten? “Now, as I was saying—”
Xemnas got up from his seat on the sofa, wandering to the kitchenette in its lonely corner, and Saïx trailed off again.
“Lord Xemnas?”
“Please, continue.” Xemnas pulled a few items from the small refrigerator, and a furrow tugged at Saïx’s scar. “But I insist you stay for a meal. We are only bodies, Saïx, and even ones so hollow as ours require adequate nourishment. I know you tend to forget that.”
It was not quite a scolding, but still, Xemnas’s words sent Saïx’s guts twisting. His lips pursed, and he cast his gaze aside. “Yes, sir,” he muttered before continuing his report. His original train of thought, however, became more difficult to follow as Xemnas retrieved a cutting board, tidily dicing a few vegetables before cracking several eggs into a bowl.
Saïx did not know precisely why, but the act almost unsettled him. It was so… normal. Something beneath Xemnas. Something too human for him. Silver hair shifted across Xemnas’s face as he whisked the eggs, leaving the vegetables to sizzle in a pan, and it did not match the image Saïx had constructed in his head of their Superior for all these years.
Eventually, Saïx gave up on his report; Xemnas didn’t seem interested, anyway. Instead, he watched as Xemnas poured the eggs, too, into the pan.
“...I didn’t know you knew how to cook, sir.” A clumsy statement, one he wasn’t sure why he uttered, and his frown deepened.
A quiet chuckle rumbled in the back of Xemnas’s throat, and the smell of vegetables and eggs cooking in butter was more pleasant than Saïx liked to admit. “I consider my efforts passable.”
It appeared more than passable to Saïx, who was lucky if he didn't happen to overcook or burn a pre-packaged meal. But when Xemnas plated the thing—a single pristine, fluffy omelette, neatly folded—and handed it to him, Saïx felt strange.
“...Are you having nothing for yourself, sir?”
Xemnas shook his head, and with a snap of his fingers, a Dusk materialized to start cleaning the dirty dishes. “Unlike yourself, I have already eaten. This is for you.”
As Xemnas nonchalantly returned to his preferred spot on the sofa, leaving Saïx with a plate and fork and hot meal, Saïx’s brain spun, uncertain if this was meant to be humiliating, or if it was a strangely considerate gift.
“Come. Sit.” Xemnas gestured to the open cushion next to him, the corners of his mouth faintly upturned in that curious expression he sometimes got when they were alone. Saïx did as he was told, sitting primly beside Xemnas and staring at the coffee table with his plate in hand.
He had been sleeping with Xemnas for months now, and yet somehow this seemed far more vulnerable. And embarrassing. At least his lack of a heart kept the flush faint on his cheeks as he took a small bite, avoiding eye contact despite the intensity with which Xemnas was looking at him.
It had been a long time since anyone had cooked for him. Saïx wasn’t sure he could even recall the last time someone had cooked for him; neither he nor Lea had ever been of any use in a kitchen. He chewed slowly, the flavors simple, mild, yet oddly comforting, and swallowed.
“...Thank you, Xemnas.” He wasn't sure what else to say, and nudged a small piece of mushroom on the plate before taking another bite. His stomach, so often neglected, all but screamed in relief.
“This Organization relies on you a great deal, Saïx. I would see that you maintain your full strength.” Again, it almost could have been a scolding, were it not for the way the words were so softly intoned, the way the deep amber of Xemnas’s eyes rested on him so keenly.
It wasn’t care. Xemnas couldn’t care. None of them could. And yet memories stirred within Saïx, dredged up from some sense of longing he remembered from long ago; wanting someone to look after him, to make sure he ate and slept, to keep some of the burden of being alive off his shoulders.
He couldn’t rely on Xemnas for any such thing. It would be absurd.
And yet, as the edges of his near-constant hunger were whittled down by a meal he hadn’t had to make for himself, a meal that had been made for him expressly, Saïx felt a peculiar warmth.
He shouldn’t be comfortable here. It was dangerous. He wasn't comfortable, and was so certain he never would be.
But the meal was warm. Xemnas’s gaze was warm. The brush of his hand when he took Saïx’s empty plate and set it aside was warm.
It had been so long since Saïx had felt so warm.