Katharos ([identity profile] katharos-8.livejournal.com) wrote in [community profile] 31_days2005-10-30 11:57 pm

Oct 29th | Final Fantasy: Advent Children | thoughtless

Title: thoughtless
Author: Katharos
Fandom: Final Fantasy: Advent Children
Theme: October 29th, Evensong
Rating: G
characters: Cloud, Kadaj,

*facepalm* I can’t believe I’m doing this. I don’t even own the game.

Uh, fluff? Kinda? After the film Kadaj turns up and Cloud doesn’t think about it.






The noise disturbs him even through the heavy drum of rain against the roof and window. He glances up from the book Tifa had told him to read, eyes automatically scanning the room and the deceptive shadows thrown by the flickering lamp. The noise comes again, like nails scratching against glass, and he focuses upon the window.

For a moment he thinks there should be another pane of glass between them, then he blinks and the illusion is gone leaving only a single white hand pressed up against the glass and a ghostly face beyond it that is familiar twice over.

Cloud sets his book aside, crosses to the window, and lets him in.

It is only when Kadaj is inside, standing shivering and dripping wet all over the floor and staring at him with a pair of almost hungry green eyes, that Cloud realises that now he’s got to do something with him.

He hesitates for a moment, then darts into his tiny bathroom and comes back with a towel and the dressing gown Tifa had bought him. Kadaj’s eyes are still focused on him through the grey hair that lies in plastered rag tails over his face, eyes that hate and demand and need all at once. Kadaj hasn’t taken those eyes off him once since he let him in, and that thought causes a coil of unease in Cloud’s spine.

He holds the dressing gown out to Kadaj. “Put this on,” Cloud tells him, and then turns his back as soon as it is taken. He tenses warily at the glare he is given.

Various articles of clothing are flung angrily to the floor to land with heavy thumps, but when Cloud turns back Kadaj is cuddled into the dressing gown, face buried into its thick collar and his expression pleased.

Cloud kicks Kadaj’s clothes into a neat pile before pushing the other down to sit on the edge of the bed and beginning to towel his hair dry. Kadaj all but purrs under his hands, leaning back against him in boneless contentment.

What the hell do you think you’re doing? For a moment Cloud thinks that if he turned around he would see them; Cid, Barrett, all of AVALANCH – all staring at him with disbelieving faces.

I’ve never known what I’m doing he tells the voices, and stands up.

“Where are you going?”

He glances back; Kadaj is perched on his bed, hands curled around his ankles and chin resting between his knees. His eyes are narrowed between the grey fall of his hair, watchful.

“Getting the spare futon,” Cloud says shortly. Kadaj’s expression turns displeased.

He makes himself turn and continue to the cupboard where the spare bedding is kept, while that gaze boring into him makes his back feel naked for a sword. As he is forcing the futon into the scant floor space and laying the sheets, neither Kadaj’s posture or expression changes in the slightest.

When Cloud is finished he looks at the clone on his bed.

Kadaj sighs in a put upon way and uncurls himself from Cloud’s bed. He walks over to the futon, looks down at it thoughtfully, then prods at it with one slender, white foot.

He looks up at Cloud, expression considering, and it’s an expression Cloud recognises from that first clash of blades in a fight where death is close against your back, the look that says how far? How far can I push against you?

“No,” Cloud tells him firmly, like he’s warning off one of the orphan’s from a piece of mischief.

Kadaj shrugs one shoulder and does the pointed looking away but not looking away thing. Cloud turns to his own bed, pulling off his shirt and boots but leaving his trousers on, and keeping all his senses trained on the one behind him.

When Cloud finishes and glances back, Kadaj is curled up on top of the covers, back turned towards him and radiating stiff resentment. Cloud hesitates for a moment, watching him. Wondering. Then he climbs into his own bed and closes his eyes.

Some time later, when Cloud had just begun to relax into the finely balanced state that was half rest, half wary alertness, there was a thump against the mattress and a warm, hard body curling up against his, settling in comfortably.

“’Niisan,” that voice sighs against his throat, ruffling his hair. Moments later, the other’s breath has relaxed into the slow, even rhythm of sleep.

Cloud lies awake for a long time that night.