"Mmmnmnnmnnn," Shera moaned quietly, adjusting herself on the bed. She was still very asleep; she wasn’t very aware of the situation, but she did know she was immensely comfortable. She’d never known her bed to be this warm and comfortable.
There was a warm breeze blowing on he hair and lashes. There was something on her hand smooth and soft and soft like old leather. There was the smell of chocolate, like a candy bar or cocoa powder.
She snuggled slightly closer the mysterious cuddly thing, and something moved around her hand, making her smile. She never wanted to get up again, and nothing was going to make her.
"…Lucrecia…"
Okay, there was something that would make her. Her eyes shot open and she looked around. All she saw were blurs and shadows. After a few minutes, she remembered her glasses. She reached over to the dresser with the one hand that wasn’t pinned down.
"More to your left, no, your other left."
Shera decided to follow the directions and ignored the fact that there was someone in her bedroom while she had been asleep and was now telling her them.
Everything came into focus in her vision and her head. Now that she could see who it was in her bedroom clearly, they didn’t frighten her anymore. Nanaki was draped over Vincent’s long legs on top of the covers. Vincent was fast asleep, completely silent. His left hand was wrapped around Shera’s; her left leg was curled around one of his.
"Considering you’re halfway on top of him, I don’t think I can call him holding your hand ‘trying anything.’ Would you like some help?" Nanaki offered to Shera, who was unsuccessfully trying to pry her hand from Vincent’s without waking him up. Every time she tried to pull away slowly, he’d tug back and whimper. Her attempts to uncurl his fingers were in vain. They would just curl back over her had once she let go to pry another off.
"Vincent, come on. Oh, for the love of—there!" Shera said quietly, holding Vincent’s wrist and yanking her hand away from him.
"What time is it?" Shera asked, yawning.
"Almost eight."
"Mnnn. I overslept. Is he shivering?"
"He’s been doing it most of the night," Nanaki said.
"What’s wrong with him?"
"I thought you knew."
"I’m a mechanic, not a doctor," Shera said, grabbing the hem of her nightshirt, then pausing.
"Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn."
"Not you," Shera said, leaning over Vincent. Carefully, she picked up the edge of his borrowed scarf and laid it over his eyes. He didn’t notice; he didn’t move, save for finding Nananki’s tail, and using it in lieu of Shera’s hand.
"Technically, he’s not human either."
"Well, he’s close enough," Shera said, taking off her Nightshirt.
"On his behalf, I think you deserve some thanks."
"I was being nice," she said, finding some jeans in her dresser.
"I thought that was why you thanked people," Nanaki said. "There’s a lot more to you than you like to let on. You’re a lot more… understanding."
"He’s gay. He had his clothes on. You were right there and Cid’s not as light a sleeper as that. He wasn’t going to try anything after being treated like a dog—no offense." She was about to ask advice about which shirt would look best, but decided Nanaki was probably colorblind. She grabbed a random shirt and put it on.
"None taken. That’s not what I meant though. No one would really think a quiet, demure person like you would go against orders and stay in the rocket to do checks, or stay with Cid after he yelled at you about it. You must understand more about people than you let on. You don’t really look like a masochist."
"I just help," she said, undoing the braid in her hair. "Whatever it is Cid comes up with, I just make it work. Rockets, planes, breakfast."
"Abduction."
"His heart’s in the right place. It always has been. Well, not on the right side of the law, but that’s entirely different. He’s really nice, despite some of the things he says."
"Why does it all depend on Cid?"
"He’s the one with the imagination. If it weren’t for him, I’d have a tiny little apartment and be fixing dishwashers. He really is nice; I’d know I was practically his big sister since he was five. He doesn’t mean half the stuff he says, well, not in a mean way. I’ll brush this later. I have to go make sure he doesn’t cook himself some sort of lard omelet."
"I’d offer my help, but culinary arts aren’t really my thing and I seem to be more use as an electric blanket at the moment."
"Just don’t shed too much."
* * * * *
Vincent’s red eyes fluttered open. Then, just as fast, they fluttered back closed and he pulled the covers closer.
Over an hour later, his eyes opened again and they stayed that way, more or less.
He’d always been uneasy just after waking up, and this was no exception. It had been confusing at first for those who’d bunked with him, but understandable. Missions drained him and he’d fallen asleep in the bath and woken up on the couch, or he’d somehow been moved from the couch to the bed. Not to mention he’d passed out on a lab floor and woken up in a large dog cage, fallen asleep from exhaustion in the cage and woken up on an operating table, been anesthetized on the operating table and woken up with a metal casing on his arm, been put in a coffin to sleep and unable to wake up and finally been woken thirty years later. Cloud’s habit of waiting a few hours before using phoenix down hadn’t helped any.
He flattened himself on the bed and pulled the covers over his head, peeking out to take in his surroundings.
White walls, ceiling, small window, large bed with something warm in it—he’d think about that later—dresser, pink shirt on the floor, bra on the dresser, closet full of old clothes, most of them pink. No bullet proof glass, no padded floor or walls. There was a door to a bathroom. This couldn’t be his room.
Sitting up, ironically feeling safer that this wasn’t his room, he rubbed his eyes and forced himself to remember how he’d gotten here.
"This must be Shera’s room," he said to himself, stretching.
"Good afternoon," Nanaki said.
"Afternoon?"
"I knew you were a heavy sleeper, but this is a bit overboard. Quite ironic, actually."
"Afternoon?"
"I was going to ask you how you were feeling, but you just answered that question. I take it you’re a bit confused."
"Afternoon? Why are you still here?"
"Did you expect to be abandoned?"
"A bit… slightly."
"You thought it was a given?"
"Pretty much. Where’s Shera? She didn’t sleep on the couch, did she?"
"Why would Shera be on the couch?"
"Well… she didn’t kick me out in the middle of the night," Vincent said standing up and walking about the room, exploring again.
"Why would she do that?"
"I’m a grown man who can’t get to sleep without someone else. I’m an escaped convict. I’m an escaped convict from a mental institution. I’m an escaped monster from a mental institution. I’m wearing her socks."
"What do socks have to do with anything?"
"I don’t know. I just thought she might be mad about me wearing her socks."
"No one slept on the couch, Vincent. And she left without any socks of her own, so I don’t really think she’d be mad. Vincent what are you doing?"
Vince slammed the drawer of the dresser closed. "I can’t do this!" he said to himself. "Shut up in there!"
"Why are you—why are they interested in Shera’s underwear. I thought you said they weren’t interested in humans."
"They…um… aren’t exactly."
"So why are they trying to make you go through her underwear?"
"They…" Vincent said, getting himself a safe distance away from the dresser. "They said I was the same size and I wasn’t paying attention to what I was doing."
"The same size?"
"I really need some underwear. I haven’t had any in… Oh, god, I can’t remember the last time I wore a pair of underwear! I’m so pathetic! And all her stuff… is…"
"Is?"
"It’s… It’s all lacey… and … stuff."
"How lacey?"
There was a long bout of silence between the two. Vincent back up two large paces, but other than that, neither moved until Nanaki excused himself from the room, leaving Vincent technically alone in the room, albeit in the company of the demons in his head, panty kleptos that they were turning out to be.