Final Fantasy VII, Sephiroth/Cloud, wing-kink - why preening is a private affair
The cabin was cold.
Cloud finished poking at the fire, and turned to look at the figure on the bed. Sephiroth sprawled across it uncaringly, as miserably unresponsive as he'd been ever since Cloud and Zack had dragged him away from Nibelheim. Cloud wasn't sure if it was the lingering effects of being possessed by Jenova, or if Sephiroth just didn't want to face them. He wasn't sure which of the two he should be hoping for, either.
He glanced at the door, but knew Zack wouldn't be back for awhile yet. He'd gone hunting, because SOLDIERs needed protein and lots of it to run their high metabolisms. The freeze-dried foods the cabin was stocked with wouldn't cut it. Besides, it was silly to be this uneasy about being alone with his own lover.
His lips firmed. Zack had gone hunting, despite the fact the wound in his side hadn't healed yet, and left Cloud to take care of Sephiroth, and that was just what he was going to do.
Standing, he crossed to the bed. He removed Sephiroth's boots first, and checked to see if the socks he wore underneath were wet. They weren't, but Cloud thought maybe he'd tell Zack that when they went to Icicle for a supply run, more socks were definitely on the agenda. They hadn't exactly had time to pack spares. Then he unclipped the heavy shoulder guards. He thought he should move onto the wide belt next – it was quite inflexible as it doubled as stomach armour, and couldn't possibly be comfortable - but Sephiroth was lying on his stomach, and Cloud didn't think he could move him on his own.
His eyes settled on the black wing that lay limply along the length of his body, instead. It was looking sadly bedraggled, broken feathers sticking out in all directions. In one way, it was a sign of everything that had led to this mess, of how Sephiroth had changed and everything had gone wrong. But looking at it, Cloud thought it showed much more clearly just how far this Sephiroth was from the cool and confident General he knew. That General had never had his mind taken over but some creepy alien entity, had never burned down a village and attacked his own best friend. That General would rather have his nails pulled out one by one than be seen at such a disadvantage.
He reached out to touch it experimentally, but Sephiroth didn't move.
“Well,” he said, aloud, his breath fogging the air momentarily, “it can't be that different from grooming chocobos.” Cloud thought he saw a shoulder twitch, but when nothing else happened, he shrugged it off as his imagination.
He settled down a little awkwardly beside Sephiroth, and reached out a hand, combing at the feathers with stiff fingers the same way he would with a chocobo after removing the saddle. He'd always liked it when his unit pulled stable duty. Chocobos felt soft and warm to the touch; to his surprise, Sephiroth's wing felt much the same. It was almost too prosaic for such a fantastical appendage.
Slowly, carefully, Cloud worked his way across the wing, tugging free the broken feathers and stroking the others into place.
He'd already been at it for a good fifteen minutes when he first noticed a response. The wing drew up a little, settling more naturally against Sephiroth's back rather than looking like something broken that dragged behind him. Encouraged, Cloud pressed closer and continued his ministrations.