Being Noticed (FFVII yaoi, Nanaki/Reno, dark #4: Wild Smile) Title: Being Noticed Fandom: FFVII Pairing: Nanaki/Reno Theme set and #: Dark Theme, #4 Wild Smile Disclaimer: Don’t own. Rating: PG Summary: Some loves are just not meant to be. Warning: Err… *points to pairing* Word count: 1043 Author’s notes: C’mon, like you didn’t expect this to happen!
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He didn't mind the way humans generally regarded him – thinking he was a cat or a dog or whatever today’s consensus was. There was something about liking peace and solitude that was as though engraved in his bones. He supposed it had something to do with the way of his kind, and that was what probably kept them alive all this time. Well, to a point.
He missed them. He missed seeing his own like somewhere else besides looking at his own reflection in the pool of water. He missed the soft fur and the paws that rubbed his belly or the deadly fangs just biting enough to massage that spot on the back of his neck.
And perhaps that was it – he missed it so much that he found a way to get at least a small portion of it back, if only visually.
That Turk… the moment he laid his eyes on that mane, all he could think of was how he missed the feel of another warm body on his own, the way his snout would land gently into the pool of messy red and he could actually close his eyes (or eye, as the fate wanted), and becontent.
Perhaps it was just it.
But why didn’t it feel like a sufficient explanation?
True, the war was over now (if a battle of a handful of men against the power stronger than all souls together could be called that) and now they were not enemies. Now, he didn’t have to feel guilt for that strange way of caring for this man.
A man yes; a human. A human who had no knowledge about Nanaki and his ways, or probably even his mind.
And, in a way, he used it. There was something strange with humans when it came to furry animals – without realizing it, their fingers would travel to the fur and rub him in the most wonderful (and sometimes ego shattering) ways.
Even the redhead. “Aw, ya big furry beast!” he’d say and join his fingers with Nanaki’s ears and Nanaki would be quiet and close his eye and just cherish the moments.
It never felt that good with anyone else, not even Tifa who just couldn’t keep her hands off him after she’d found out how much he enjoyed it.
He never understood why humans avoided touching each other so much. He knew they loved it, at least from those sighs and gentle moans they’d produce as a reaction to it. But they rarely allowed more than one person to touch them, and almost never publicly (and a lot of them did it only in the dark), but they definitely enjoyed it.
Of course, such restrictions were almost nonexistent when it came to fur covered nonhumans, and Nanaki used it whenever he felt necessary.
But there was still the issue of that red Turk. While Nanaki didn’t mind being touched, he generally didn’t return the favour as humans simply weren’t interested in it. Eventually, of course, he got used to not doing it, but when the redhead would squeeze the skin under his neck, when his lips would actually stop producing the nonsensical babble and spread into a wild smile, Nanaki realized he’d like to touch back. On those rare occasions, when he knew no one was watching, he’d put his paws on the dark blue covered knee and nuzzled his neck and throat, which would, then, make the redhead laugh loudly and rub with even more force.
Unlike many humans, the redhead was beautiful, and he didn’t just mean the hair, even though its shade was exceptional and quite pleasing, in his own modest opinion. There were the tattoos, of course. His kind paid so much heed to the symbols and colours they used to tell one’s story. It was not just aesthetics but a sacred ritual as well.
Humans, on the other hand, used the permanent ink for real drawings and pictures. While, true, they were crafty and beautiful in their way, they lacked the spiritual merit. Reno’s tattoos were not a picture but simply two symbols under his eyes in the shade of his hair. Nanaki suspected he had no idea that two simple lines had a meaning and his first reaction to seeing those marks would be (actually, would have been, had he not reminded himself this was just a human) to lower his head and curl his tail in the deepest respect for the elder and probably beg to be granted the kindness to hear his story about the powerful beast he had slain.
Perhaps that was a yet another reason why his mind felt the need to think about this Turk.
Then there was his fighting skill, which was very important to a species of warriors. Someone like Reno, were he a female, would have been a very flattering mate and winning her over would be extremely demanding.
Nanaki may still be young, but in his heart he felt ready for any task that would have been set forth by this specific possible mate. Sadly, he was also quite aware of the futility of that statement.
Sometimes he hoped the redhead would ask him to bring a condor’s egg or Zolom’s head, or some demanding task that would give him a goal or even get him killed or crippled and, that way, made unfit for fathering children. But it was just hard like this, having to steal a glance or two as those skilful fingers brushed his mane or rubbed his jaw or even, in those rare occasions, stroked his belly a few times, and just know he’d be ready to do anything to win his heart, but not actually admitting it.
And he had no one to talk to, because no one could really know how to help him. Even his closest friends had a hard time remembering he, in fact, shared their sentiments and memories and intelligence.
Everyone else still thought he was just a dog.
Reno thought he was just a dog. But Reno was the typical type of a human that never touched another human affectionately, but he obviously liked dogs, so Nanaki had no problem with pretending to be just that if it meant being noticed.