Pairing: Cactuar/Sephiroth. (That's right, Cactuar's first. Guess where it's going.)
Theme set: Alpha.
Rating: Uhhhhhh... PG-13. Most of it's implied.
Sephiroth had never been one for emotional scenes, being one who preferred the "tough" kind of love that was always a conquest and always a challenge rather than comfort; Cactuar seemed perfect for him, as it didn't really get much tougher than trying to get everything to fit.
There never was a second; by the time Sephiroth had gotten all the spines out of his tongue, the relationship had moved on to placing spines in other places.
Even now, months later, Sephiroth still remembers with nostalgia that one magical, stress-releasing, and "squish-less" weekend when Cactuar fell out of his trunk in the forests near Gongaga and accidentally got hit with Petrify.
Sephiroth sighed, shifting uncomfortably in his seat, and irritably snapped at the SOLDIER recruits nearby to quiet down; potatoes were nice when Cactuar wasn't available, but they just weren't long enough and dammit, did they always get stuck right before he had to go to work...
It was almost cute how Sephiroth always accompanied Cactuar out into the rain, more so because invariably, it ended up with Sephiroth giving Cactuar all his clothing to "keep it from being over-watered"; Reno was pretty sure what happened after that wasn't legal, but hey, it was still kinda cute in a ShinRa-camera-feed-blackmail kind of way.
The only thing Sephiroth sometimes regretted was the lack of angry make-up sex; then again, he figured, at least he didn't have to be buying presents all the time and hey, he could always just sit on it a little harder.
What they never knew before Nibelheim was that all of Sephiroth's moaning about "Mother" every night wasn't due to internal pain—or at least the internal emotional kind, anyway.
He'd tried that; it just lacked the spiky goodness.
He'd tried that, too; the texture of the kernels felt nice, but again, no spiky goodness.
It was just one of those things, Sephiroth thought to himself, that he'd have to scratch off of his list of bad habits; for some reason, "what's my name?" just hadn't sounded right when he'd yelled it at a plant during sex—especially when someone in the next room had replied with a dutiful "Sephiroth, sir!"
Sephiroth soon learned that Cactuars, silk stockings, and chocobo-feather boas were never in the same sentence for a reason.
The first time Sephiroth had asked for a Cactuar to be planted in the center of his grave, everyone at ShinRa Inc. had given him a funny look; when he insisted that it be done, however, they all shrugged and acquiesced, assuming it was just another phallic-Masamune thing.
It would have been a lie to say that Cactuar taught Sephiroth everything he knew; Cloud was partially responsible, if only in the fact that he had really spiky hair.
The first time they'd touched, he'd bled, and the next seventeen thousand and fifty one times weren't any different; it was times like these, dripping his way over the luckily uncarpeted floor to the bathroom, that Sephiroth thanked the Gods yet again for Cure materia.
One time, a new janitor from Nibelheim had almost thrown away the cactus in Sephiroth's office; he'd rushed down and barely managed to save it from the incinerator, and it was there and then that Sephiroth had sworn revenge.
There were, not surprisingly, quite a lot of both kinds.
Tseng had always wondered why Sephiroth bothered to do his paperwork so quickly; it wasn't as if there were cameras in his office or anything to amuse himself with for the hours he saved, and the only piece of decoration in the place was that Cactuar by the door...
After two hours of trying to pull his hair free from Cactuar's spines, Sephiroth decided that maybe the he should tie his hair next time that the 42nd floor balcony seemed like a good idea.
After the Nibelheim incident, Sephiroth had thought that he was finally free from his foolish bonds of love; unfortunately, Jenova turned out to be a rather malicious, sadistic, and most importantly, voyeuristic bitch.
Call Meteor, Jenova said, hold a reunion, Jenova said, get that Cactuar out of your ass and pay attention to my needs, Jenova said; gawd, Sephiroth thought sometimes, it was just like being married.
Once, Sephiroth had overheard his name from a tearful Cloud desperately asking Zack about stronger hair gel—hah, he'd thought, walking by with the Cactuar firmly in his arms and ignoring Cloud's wistful expression, as if he could ever again hope to compare!
There was, of course, a reason why Sephiroth had always worn gloves: hands, unlike other places, tended to be rather visible, and Cure materia always left scars...
For some reason, the taste of aloe always left Sephiroth feeling a little bit guilty.
Sephiroth had never believed in one true love—then, one day when he'd accidentally gotten too close to the cactus in the corner, love had poked him solidly in the ass—and it hasn't quit poking him since.
Someone once told Sephiroth that the average Cactuar lived about two hundred years; hell, he thought, it wasn't forever, but damned if it wasn't a lot of good sex.
It was only when Zack shook his head and commented on his décor (woah, that red almost looks like--) that Sephiroth realized that he'd forgotten to clean off the walls again.
One night, Palmer looked through Sephiroth's window when President ShinRa sent him to pick up certain classified orders; rumor has it that he hasn't eaten a single fruit or vegetable since.
Ever since he and Cactuar had had mad, passionate sex in the elevator, the little ding of we've-arrived had never failed to turn Sephiroth on: this was unfortunate, because the next three times that happened, he happened to be pressed into the back of one quite unwilling Rufus—who fortunately had a father who never paid attention to his son's sudden paranoia.
Psh, only five spikes—even Cloud could do better than that.
Watching Desert Weapon mow down his lover's parents, Sephiroth breathed a sigh of relief; at least the Cetra had done one thing right—now he wouldn't have to worry about the damn in-laws.
Helping Sephiroth carry several 40 lb. bags of fertilizer into his office and loading them into a closet full of gauze bandages and patent leather shoes, Rude decided that whatever the hell it was, he wouldn't ask.
As the new recruit told of his front-lines-terror spiking up into his stomach, Sephiroth only rolled his eyes—for all his nights, he'd never hit his stomach even once.
One time, Reno stuck two lightning materia into Cactuar's eye sockets; the next day, when his car exploded out of nowhere, all he could do was watch and grin.
After a long evening of watching spy movies and ranting on how the old ones were so much better, Sephiroth decided that it was probably time for him to sleep or get medication when Cactuar began to verbally agree.
Didn't anyone in Midgar know the non-drug definition of pot!?
Well, there were machine guns, but he had his Masamune; it kind of worked the same way with certain other vibrating things and Cactuar.
If anything, all the yelling was at least helping Sephiroth's natural singing range.
The thing that annoyed Sephiroth the most about his mother was that Jenova kept on snapping pictures.
In the room behind him, there were tapes, there was Ebay, and there was a horrified Elena—but
Sephiroth couldn't help but smirk at all the romance novels and their puny measures of "feeling completely filled."
Cloud had tried dyeing his hair green once in order to win back Sephiroth's attention; sadly enough, his people-reading skills were as bad as ever.
Cloud wondered what Cid might have said if he'd known that the seat on the Highwind upon which he sat now was where Sephiroth and Cactuar had joined the mile-high club.
For one brief moment, between Cactuar and its older brother, Sephiroth thought that he might not have to do that whole destroy-the-Planet-and-become-a-God-thin
...then, Jenova decided to join in, and that whole let's-kill-everything urge came right back, especially as her tentacles kept getting in Cactuar's way.
Sephiroth hesitated just one moment, wondering if Cactuar would die if he blew up the Sun; then, realizing that hey, he could just make another one, Sephiroth happily went back to destroying the world.
He'd once found a group of people that prayed to the moon and claimed to love trees; he'd asked which way they preferred it, and had been greeted with a lot of horrified stares.
It was more like ridges, actually, but they felt just as good.
In a pinch, Sephiroth found, Cactuar could function just as well as a hair brush; the opposite, Sephiroth found further, didn't hold true.
Summoning meteor and yawning as the damn thing finally hit Pluto, Sephiroth wandered off the screen for a while to make One-Winged-Angel and desert-plant love.