Hello! Happy Thanksgiving, all you Americans! I hope everyone had a nice day. Here's some festive Angeal/Cloud. I wanted something cozy, so...here. And remember that ASGZC that I keep promising? You probably don't-but if you care, he's the dealio: it's coming along well. It'll probably be a twoshot at this point-it looks like it's gonna be pretty long. That should be up before the end of my Thanksgiving break. And IM after that! NOW ENJOY, FOOLS (and disclaimer: I don't own Angeal or Cloud or anyone ;_;)

And this is for ohxasphyxiationx because she fangirls Angeal with me whenever I feel like fangirling Angeal. And she likes stuffing, and I like cranberry sauce. So. /heart

Still, still—careful, careful. No breathing.

His heartbeat was the loudest thing right then, and even it by itself was too loud; his prey would hear it and escape, and then where would he be?

He watched it. The almost majestic-looking back feathers were straight, taught, poised, tense—and for good reason.

Cloud straightened his gun and closed one eye. He drew a shaky breath and prepared himself. Exhale.

Something snapped under his boot. The turkey bolted. Cloud fired a desperate shot at its retreating back, but to no avail. It escaped!

"Dammit," Cloud cursed loudly, scowling at the twig beneath his feet and giving it a vicious kick deeper into the woods. This was the third time. He kept fucking up and letting the turkeys get away. Cloud sighed, looking up at the trees and letting the wind soothe his sweaty face and neck.

He loved fall. The trees above him were the most gorgeous colors, and the sky was a bright, pretty blue behind the dark cloud cover. It was chilly but not too much so—his hunting gear was keeping him warm enough. Cloud looked out at the forest and smiled. Even if the turkeys were hiding from him, it was a good day.

Sighing lightly, Cloud kept walking. Nothing else to do really.

He had planned to spend all day outside, in nature. He had never caught a turkey before, but it was fun to try. He wandered, listening to the sounds of the forest. He could hear birds—and he wished them to hurry up and fly south for the winter. Poor things. Cloud admired the ways the setting sun made the whole forest catch on fire, all pretty oranges and reds and yellows.

As Cloud walked he thought, balancing his gun on his shoulder.

It was Thanksgiving, and rather than spending the day with family and friends, here he was, alone in a quickly-darkening forest.

It wasn't that he didn't have anyone to spend the holiday with—he was just... working out some things. His latest relationship with Reno had ended...well, badly (catastrophically was a better word) a few months ago. Cloud needed his time, his space, and his thoughts—and his forest. Sneaky bastard turkeys were his only company this year, but that was okay. It was better this way.

Cloud stumbled over a log, knocking himself out of his little trance. It was darker now. He couldn't just space out like that.

The clouds above were blacker, thicker. Fuck. Cloud's hand shot into one of his pockets and he pulled out a compass. After squinting at it with the help of the sunset's last rays he started walking towards home.

Soon, though, it began to rain. Cloud cursed and pulled up his hood. Another short search of his pockets revealed he had forgotten his flashlight. Goddamn. Hadn't he said it was a good day! Oh, he took that back.

Cloud stumbled around in the dark for a while. It started raining harder, and the rain was freezing. He would have preferred it be a few degrees colder if it meant it could snow; that wouldn't be half as bad. He wandered around trees miserably, cursing his stupidity. He wasn't really worried, 'cause, well, he had a gun with him. He could destroy any beastie that tried to hurt him, but... this sucked. Majorly.

He flipped open his phone to find that, joy, he had no service—and now his phone was wet.

Happy Thanksgiving, Strife.

With nothing else to do, Cloud kept wandering. He couldn't see the compass anymore. ...Maybe he'd have to find a big tree and take shelter under its branches, but what about bears? Monsters? Spiders? It looked like he might have to—the rain was getting harder by the minute, and he was shivering violently. Fuuuuck.

Cloud sniffed sadly and looked around at the forest, which was growing scarier and scarier by the second, the longer he strained his eyes. And—what was that? He squinted, and yes; to his left there was a soft light glowing not too far off. He followed it after swallowing, bumping into trees and tripping over roots.

It was a cabin, thank god.

Cloud let out a sob of relief and stumbled forward. He was probably going to ruin someone's peaceful holiday but... oh well. He was freezing here!

He managed to get to the door and tried to peek inside, but curtains were over the tiny windows and blocked his view. Cloud hoped he wasn't about to disturb some psycho killer and knocked, dropping his gun on the ground a few feet away, off the tiny porch, so he wouldn't frighten anyone.

There was silence for a moment, and then he heard footsteps. The door cracked open, not enough for Cloud to see who it was.

"Hello?" came a deep, bewildered voice.

Shivering violently, Cloud stepped forward a bit and chattered, "Uh—H-Hello. I'm sorry, but I'm lost and it's raining... and—and could I come in, please?"

Alarmed, the other man opened the door for him. Cloud walked inside the warm little dwelling, incredibly grateful as he felt warmth surround his whole drenched ice cube of a body.

He looked at his savior. Taller than him, strong-looking, dark hair, handsome. Didn't look like a murderer.

Cloud flipped back his hood, showing that he didn't look like a crazy murderer either (hopefully), and the man relaxed.

"T-Thank you," Cloud stuttered, trying not to drip everywhere. "I'm sorry—"

"Don't worry about it," the man interrupted, blinking. "Um." He turned around, looking through his living room towards another room—probably a bedroom. "I'll get you a towel. One second."

He left, and Cloud surveyed the place. His initial observation of cabin was incorrect—it was a (very tiny) house. The living room was cramped but cozy, with a used-looking couch, a chair, and a coffee table. To his right was a super tiny kitchen with a mini-fridge and a stove. There were a few pots bubbling merrily on top of it. The whole place smelled heavenly.

Way to interrupt his Thanksgiving dinner, Cloud.

The man came back with a green towel in his hands, and he handed it to Cloud, who immediately dried his hair. After rubbing it all over his head he undoubtedly looked like he was electrocuted. He smiled.

"Um, I'm Cloud Strife. Thanks a lot."

"Angeal Hewley," the man answered. Cloud gave Angeal a nervous smile and stood there in his sopping orange and camo outfit, wringing his hands. He turned his head back towards the door even though he couldn't see outside at the rain and felt foolish. Cloud spoke at the same time Angeal did.

"Where are we?"

"Do you want some dry clothes?"

Cloud flushed and nodded.

"Follow me. Take off your shoes first, would you?"

Cloud bent, untied his muddy boots and scampered lightly behind Angeal in his wet socks. Angeal led him to his bedroom; Cloud stood there awkwardly as Angeal rummaged through his dresser.

After being informed that the little house wasn't too far from the main road, Cloud realized with surprise that he was probably a twenty-five minute drive from his house. Damn.

Angeal, after glancing at Cloud a few times to guess how big he was, handed him some soft sleep pants, a black t-shirt, new socks and a pair of boxers. Embarrassed, Cloud murmured, "Thanks so much" and watched Angeal nod and go back to the kitchen.

Cloud changed, looking around at the tiny bedroom. The bed took up most of the space, and from what he could see there wasn't a bathroom inside; he cringed, picturing an outside shower and toilet. Bugs. Ew.

Angeal's clothes were huge on him. He wasn't fat or anything—just a muscular, well, man. He was skinny and had to roll the pants up and tie them tightly. The shirt kept hanging off his one shoulder; he fixed it and hoped the boxers wouldn't fall down.

He sat on the bed for a minute. He was... stuck in a tiny house with an incredibly hot man. Alright. And to think he had been hunting turkeys not so long ago!

Cloud got up, gathering his wet gear, phone in hand. He wandered back into the living room. Angeal was messing with a pot—mm, mashed potatoes. The floor creaked under his feet and Angeal turned. He eyed Cloud's armful and frowned.

"I'll hang those outside," Angeal said quietly, taking the clothes from the blond. Cloud followed and watched as Angeal folded them on the banister outside. The little bit of roof that extended over the porch would keep them dry. Angeal's arms flexed and his biceps bulged as he shook out his jacket and Cloud went back inside, feeling a bit giddy. It could be a lot worse.

There was a lone lightbulb, part of a ceiling fan, but it was enough, casting a warm glow over the whole place. Now that he was dry and cozy and not dripping all over the floor, he could appreciate the little house a lot more.

Cloud reached up and ran his fingers through his hair, getting it back to its usual spikiness.

"Hungry?"

Angeal was closing the door behind him as he walked back inside. He was quietly studying him. Cloud reddened, sure he looked ridiculous in the huge clothes and, because, really, he was the worst holiday ruiner ever.

"No, no," he stammered, "You don't have to feed me too."

Angeal smiled, walking past him and checking on the turkey in the oven. "I have way too much for just me to eat anyway," he said lightly, "I don't mind sharing."

Cloud fidgeted, then asked if he could be of any help. Angeal pointed at the dishes in the sink as he stirred a pot of something.

"So, why were you out here so late?"

It was a relief to not hear any suspicion in the other man's voice (if it was there, it was well hidden).

Cloud told him how he was out hunting for the day and wasn't getting anything (as usual) and he was thinking and lost track of time. Then, it had looked like it was about to rain so he started home but got caught in the storm. He explained how he finally saw the lights on inside the house and was so happy. Angeal listened calmly, not saying anything but giving a little nod every now and then that let Cloud know he was listening. He must not have been a man of many words. The man scooped corn and peas out of a pot and handed it to him. Cloud washed it and remarked lightly, "It's good to know I didn't come to some crazy murderer's house."

Angeal was quiet, making Cloud look over. His face was blank, so much so that it was frightening. "...And what if I was a murderer?"

Cloud's horrified face made Angeal laugh—hard. Cloud chuckled nervously, trying to make his heart beat again. Angeal moved another pot into the sink, nudging Cloud with his shoulder. "Relax," he said with a grin. "Go sit."

There wasn't anywhere to sit other than in the living room, and after a moment's hesitation Cloud took the recliner. He watched Angeal work away in the kitchen, feeling bad, and then examined the little things in the living room. There was a stack of magazines in the corner, all about cooking and gardening. Cloud snickered, fixing his shirt's collar.

It was a cozy place that smelled amazing and was home to an incredibly sexy man. It really could be a lot worse. Lucky him!

Angeal put a plate in front of him on the tiny table. Cloud smiled up at him; Angeal smiled back.

Cloud adjusted his shirt as Angeal moved back and forth, carrying dishes over. Then Angeal sat too, opposite him on the couch. Cloud eyed the many plates of steaming, delicious food, and his stomach growled.

Angeal chuckled. "Help yourself."

After a moment's hesitation Cloud sat cross-legged on the chair and began piling his plate high with food. He ate a forkful of turkey, stuffing and peas and beamed brightly. "You're a great cook!"

"Thank you," Angeal said after taking a small sip of wine. "My real talent lies with leftovers, though."

Cloud grinned, then looked around again. It seemed pretty bare. "Do you live here? Um, permanently, I mean?"

Angeal immediately grimaced. "No—this is my 'get out of the city' place."

"The city?"

"Midgar."

Cloud's mouth formed a small 'o' of surprise. Midgar was where Shin-Ra electric power company's headquarters was, and was maybe the most expensive city to live in on the continent. Cloud fidgeted self-consciously.

"You?"

"...I live in an apartment over that way," he pointed, "half an hour away or so."

Angeal didn't make fun of him or anything; he just nodded and continued eating.

"How old are you?" Cloud asked curiously.

"Twenty six."

"Twenty one."

They both relaxed some more.

After a few minutes of comfortable silence Angeal asked, "You don't like wine?"

Cloud glanced at his untouched glass and said quickly, "Of course I do!" He took a quick sip—then scrunched up his face and gagged. Angeal wordlessly took his glass and got him a soda from the fridge. Cloud blushed scarlet and muttered, "Thanks."

Angeal asked Cloud what he did for a living. Cloud eagerly spoke about his delivery service, that wasn't doing too bad, if he did say so himself. Angeal casually said he worked for Shin-Ra.

"So—you know Sephiroth?" Hopeful.

Angeal's face twisted for a second before easing out into that stern look he usually wore. "Yeah. He's a friend of mine." Cloud made a note not to bring the man up again.

"Uh," Cloud began hesitantly. He didn't want to, but the curiosity was eating at him. "Do—do you know a Reno? He's a Turk?"

Angeal looked at him, tilting his head a little. "Yeah. How do you know him?"

It would suck if this nice man kicked him out, but... "Uh. I was sort of dating Reno until a little while ago."

Angeal was quiet for a few seconds, then said knowingly, "Ah." Well, of course he knew. It had been...catastrophic, after all. He hadn't been kidding.

Cloud went back to eating; Angeal did the same. Eventually the older man asked, "What's your favorite thing to eat on Thanksgiving?"

The relaxed smile on Angeal's face was reassuring. "Cranberry sauce," Cloud said, grinning.

"Definitely stuffing."

Cloud licked his fork absently. "Stuffing is okay, but cranberry sauce is loads better."

Angeal scoffed, and Cloud launched into a passionate speech about the wonders of cranberry sauce. Angeal calmly waited until he finished and then, waving a forkful of stuffing around to prove his point, trampled Cloud's arguments into the ground. Cloud sat there in awe, almost hearing his beloved food crying on his plate.

"...Are you a lawyer?"

"I am." Angeal winked at him. "You got points for enthusiasm."

Cloud broke into a fit of giggles, almost dropping his plate. Angeal snorted—yes, snorted—as he laughed too. Cloud's eyes went wide at the sound and he kept giggling, almost hysterically. Angeal choked on his wine so badly Cloud was about to get up and pound on his back, but Angeal waved him away, eyes watering.

They both calmed down eventually, grinned, then went back to eating. Cloud stopped picking at the collar of Angeal's shirt and let it hang off his shoulder comfortably.

Their conversation turned to their interests. Angeal told him about his love for gardening, and Cloud chatted happily about motorcycles, only stopping when he realized Angeal was watching him talk about transmissions with far too much amusement glinting in his eyes. He pouted and stabbed a sweet potato.

When Cloud couldn't eat another bite he stood, feeling like if he stayed sitting he'd never get up. He ran a hand across his tummy and smiled hazily down at Angeal. "You should become a cook," he said stupidly, then wobbled into the kitchen.

Angeal followed a minute later. They lined up at the sink—Angeal soaped, Cloud rinsed and stacked in the drying rack.

"How often do you go hunting?" Angeal asked. Cloud didn't answer right away and he flicked his soapy fingers at the blond, who jolted.

"Huh? What? Oh—sorry—um." He laughed, "like three times a year. I've never caught anything."

"Nice."

"It's okay. I wouldn't want to kill anything anyway."

They continued to chat as they worked, and when they were done Angeal opened his door and immediately shut it. "Still pouring," he said gravely. "I guess you're spending the night... unless you feel like walking home?"

Cloud frowned and hiked up Angeal's drooping pants around his hips. "No—but I don't want to intrude more than I already have..."

Angeal waved him away, saying he didn't mind the company.

Later, Cloud had to borrow an umbrella and darted outside to the bathroom with it, cursing again. When he returned Angeal was finishing putting the leftovers in containers. Cloud scowled grumpily, drowned kitten that he was and grabbed the green towel he had used earlier, drying himself off again. He stretched out on the couch on his belly, and (as he noticed with a blush) it was still a bit warm from where Angeal had been sitting.

There were a few picture frames on a small end table in the corner of the room—he reached out and tilted them towards him so he could see them better. There was Angeal, arm around some red-headed man and smiling brightly. There he was again, with a spiky-haired guy and then with the redhead again and, amazingly enough, Sephiroth. Grin.

The couch dipped; Angeal sat on the few inches of cushion not taken up by Cloud's body. Cloud curiously pointed at the redhead. "Who's that?"

Angeal, after a pause, picked up the pictures and set them on his lap. Cloud sat up and crawled to Angeal's left side, sitting down.

Angeal pointed at the dark-haired man first. "That's Zack," he said, obviously happy. "He was an intern earlier this year. Good friend of mine." He set it on the table. He then turned to the one of him and the redhead.

There was a sad look in Angeal's eyes. Cloud pressed a little bit closer so their knees touched and drooped his head, feeling bad for asking.

"This is my ex, Genesis," he said, frowning deeply. He glanced at Cloud's soft, attentive face and turned over the other one. He spoke hesitantly, a bit awkwardly, "He, Sephiroth and I have been best friends since we were kids. Gen and I broke up—let's see—like six months ago, and almost immediately he and Sephiroth got together." Angeal drew a deep breath, shoulders sagging. "It's weird. I'm still friends with both of them, but it's tough. Mostly why I came here this year."

The other man looked so downcast, hurt and betrayed even, Cloud gently took his hand and squeezed. Angeal put the pictures back carefully and squeezed too.

They relaxed into the couch and struck up conversation again, fingers still twined together. Cloud didn't know what was going on anymore, but Angeal wasn't moving his hand away, so neither was he. They both needed a friend right now, and there was something easier about talking to a complete stranger, as opposed someone you really knew. It came in handy.

They talked about normal things, like books and television and movies. They both couldn't stand scary movies, but always tried to watch them anyway. They both engaged in an unhealthy amount of road rage but tried to deny it.

Cloud's responses grew more and more disjointed until he answered "yes" to Angeal's question as to what his pet fishes' names were. Angeal smiled but didn't prod him for a correct answer, and they listened to the rain pounding on the roof almost dreamily.

Cloud found himself blinking at Angeal's shoulder. He felt Angeal's fingers gently fiddle with the spikes on the back of his neck, arm resting on the back of the couch.

They moved at the same time. Cloud rested his head on Angeal's shoulder, and Angeal gently grabbed his upper arm, pulling him closer until Cloud was comfortably curled against his side. Angeal breathed in Cloud's still slightly damp hair—he smelled like rain (no surprises there) and something else sweet, though he couldn't put his finger on it.

They sat there, not really talking, just listening to each other's soft breathing. If Cloud spoke, he thought he'd ruin the peaceful mood, so he stayed quiet, letting his breath puff on Angeal's neck. They were still, two bruised and slowly healing souls, taking comfort in another who was just as wounded as they were.

Cloud focused on the warmth of Angeal's skin and the gentleness of his touch and the steady pattering of the rain, and, soon enough, the rain was quieter and the lights were off. He stirred, lifting his head a few inches off his new friend—acquaintance—whatever's—chest. Angeal was sleeping soundly. They were both covered in the comforter Cloud had seen on the bed when he had changed earlier; Angeal must have gotten it at some point after Cloud had fallen asleep on him. Cloud was half-sprawled across Angeal's chest and half on the couch, almost falling off the edge.

He adjusted himself so he was more comfortable, pulling the blanket higher, tucking it around Angeal's sides sleepily. It was getting chilly at night these days.

What would his mother say if she saw him sleeping on some random man he had met in the forest! He laughed quietly, grinning when Angeal's warm, strong arm tightened around him at the noise.

When Cloud woke up again, early-morning, it took him a minute to realize what that thing on his cheek was. He blinked sleepily up at Angeal, who was slowly dragging the pad of his thumb over Cloud's skin, back and forth repeatedly. He didn't pause when he noticed Cloud watching.

"Hello," he murmured, not blinking, blue eyes intense. "Good morning."

Cloud stared back. "Hello. Good morning."

He wormed a hand in-between their bodies and let himself doze, still feeling that calm attention on his cheek that was joined by five fingers weaving though his hair, scritching his scalp.

He had been worried, perhaps, that after they woke this strange mood would be gone, and Angeal would kick that strange, lost turkey-hunter on his ass outside. He didn't though—he must have believed, too, that their meeting was...special. They were strangers and yet they were not, kindred souls.

The tiny house filled up with bright sunshine and when Angeal pressed feather-light kisses to Cloud's temple and ear, waking him up, Cloud could see clearly everything he had missed in the darkness of last night—the tiny potted plants on the windowsill, the briefcase full of work-related things on the floor near the door, the shining happiness in Angeal's eyes.

Cloud smiled, reaching up and hooking his arms around the other's neck. Angeal pulled him and the blanket up, pressing their chests together in a soft, warm cocoon.

It was possible they slept a bit more; Cloud didn't know. Time passed slowly, comfortably, full of light touches, warm breath, steady heartbeats and lots of thinking. Neither wanted to move.

Eventually, though, their hungry stomachs made them get up. They didn't discuss what had happened between them or tried to figure out what they were—no, conversation picked up from where it left off the night before, and Cloud told a story of how his old fish, Firion, had jumped out of the tank and into his mom's iced tea.

Cloud had to admit that Angeal's skill with leftovers was indeed formidable. Everything tasted better than it had the night before, which he couldn't believe; Angeal just laughed at him when he expressed his suspicion.

After lunch they went for a walk, exploring the woods Cloud had been trekking through the day before. It was muddy, but a lot warmer than it had been the day before. The grass had dew on it and spider webs sparkled in the sun; the forest around Nibelheim was always so, so, so pretty. He really was lucky to live where he was. Cloud took Angeal's hand and pulled him through trees before crouching.

"Turkey tracks," he said seriously, squinting at the ground.

Lips danced across the exposed skin of his neck, shoulder and collarbone. Cloud laughed and tried to swat the man away, but Angeal was firm, gently grabbing his flailing arms and kissing a slightly discolored spot on his shoulder, left from bad sunburn as a kid.

"Angeal," Cloud whispered after a moment.

"Hmm?"

"You just stepped in turkey shit."

The ticklish beard and tempting mouth instantly vanished. Angeal danced away with a curse, trying to look at the bottom of his shoes. Cloud grabbed the waistband of his borrowed too-big pants so they wouldn't fall down on the way and scrambled back towards the house. Gullible, hah!

Angeal chased him back to the house, catching him a few meters from the front door. He grabbed the squirming blond and bullied him inside, fingers digging at ticklish spots. Cloud screeched and managed to get away, collapsing on the couch where they had spent so much of their morning. They talked some more, played a game of cards with a deck Angeal had found under the cushion and hadn't even known was there. Cloud would have been content to spend forever in this place with one of the nicest men he had ever met.

But Angeal had to be back in Midgar by that evening, so around two they regretfully left the house. Cloud's gear was still a bit damp, so Cloud left in his borrowed clothes.

"I'll get them back the next time I see you," Angeal said. Cloud believed him.

Angeal's car was parked down a short ways on the main road, with the cars owned by people at the campground not too far away. Technically he wasn't supposed to park there, but, hey—money worked wonders, he said with a wink.

Cloud sat, admiring the inside of the expensive thing. Angeal brought it to life with a hum and they started driving after Cloud sent a little goodbye to Angeal's cozy second home in his mind.

"Angeal!" Cloud shrieked not five minutes later. "Stop the car!"

Angeal pulled over, confused. Cloud rolled down the window and leant out as far as he could, pointing at something in the field they were beside.

"See that turkey! That's definitely the same one I was hunting yesterday! It looks exactly the same!"

He felt Angeal unbuckle himself and carefully crawl over so he could see, hovering over Cloud's back. "...I'm sure it is," he said, clearly disbelieving, and Cloud tsked at him. Angeal smirked into his cheek, kissed him once there and buckled back up.

"Bye turkey," Cloud called with a laugh as they kept going.

When they arrived at Cloud's humble home, Angeal unlocked the doors and, after staring at the gun in the backseat like it would explode if he touched it, grabbed Cloud's clothes. They carried everything to the front door, and Angeal waited outside as Cloud darted inside and dropped everything off. Then Cloud came back, face a bit red, pretty blue eyes in a shade Angeal was coming to adore looking down at the ground.

Angeal reached out and tugged him to his chest, resting his chin on the top of Cloud's head.

"Thanks for taking me in last night," Cloud said after a moment. "I'm glad I got lost and met you."

"I'm glad you got lost and met me," Angeal mimicked with a grin, eyes sliding closed as Cloud's hands ran up his sides.

"Will I, uh, see you again soon?"

"Of course. It's not that long a drive."

Cloud stood on tiptoes and pressed his cheek to Angeal's, focusing on how the man's scratchy chin hairs tickled his ear. He had Angeal's cell phone number and email on a piece of paper in his pocket; it wasn't like he'd never talk to the guy again, but he didn't want to let go. To think that he had found this guy after a hunting trip gone awry! True, they still didn't know each other that well, and, well, they had met through the craziest of circumstances and were still virtually strangers—but, whatever, there was something there, something Cloud had never had with Reno.

"I have to go now," Angeal breathed into Cloud's ear, brushing his cheek with his thumb again. Maybe he just liked to do that.

"Okay," Cloud agreed. He didn't pull away, and neither did Angeal.

Angeal gave a tiny puff of laughter and looked down at Cloud with the happiest expression Cloud had seen him give yet. Cloud squeezed the front of his shirt and quickly gave Angeal a soft kiss, on the lips, for once—the first of many more to come. Definitely.

After a minute of squeezing each other Angeal gave Cloud a tiny push towards his front door. Cloud waved and darted inside before he could be tempted to run back out, then peeked through a gap in the curtains until Angeal got back into his car and drove away.

Breathless, Cloud wandered into his kitchen and saw that he had eight voicemails—all from friends, most likely, wishing him a happy Thanksgiving and reminding him to give thanks.

Even though Cloud had been surrounded by his pals ever since becoming single again, he had felt rather...alone. Sad, too. He had been dealing with it all in his own way. Cloud thought of dark hair and stern, deep blue eyes and smiled, picking up his gear to put in the dryer.

He definitely knew what he was thankful for this year.

I made a haiku of this fic: /shifty eyes

Cloud sucks at hunting
He meets a man in the woods
Angeal likes kissing him.

... :'D HAPPY THANKSGIVING! Wait! That last line has six syllables, crap. ...Oh well.

~Much love, Tobi