Title: Bishie Feather Blues
Author: GuiltyRed
Rating: PG13
Warnings: crack.
Word count: 1067
Prompt: Final Fantasy VII: Crisis Core, Sephiroth/Genesis/Angeal, wing kink – "plucking feathers and molting is not what I had in mind."
Summary: Reunited in the Lifestream, the legendary three come to a rare agreement.

In the Lifestream, Sometime After the End of the Story…

And so the three friends have been reunited, though there was still some speculation as to which one, precisely, was which.

Make that a lot of speculation.

"Some hero," Genesis sneered at Sephiroth, "burning the damn village to the ground. And then what, setting your various parts loose to wreak havoc on the rest of the world? Nice. No wonder you have such a fan following."

Sephiroth raised a hand to his forehead and hoped headaches weren't a reality within the Lifestream. "I never claimed to be the hero in your dotty little play, Genesis. I think, more likely, that role would fall to your former boyfriend."

"Don't bring me into your little snarkfest!" Angeal strode between the two yet again in an attempt to bodily distract them from attacking each other. "I think, logically speaking, that it's not bloody relevant anymore!"

Genesis turned a pout toward him and glowered from under his eyelashes. "Loveless is always relevant."

With a frustrated sigh, Sephiroth turned away and made a mental note: headaches, sadly, didn't remain solely in the realm of the living, and here there was no aspirin.

"Have you considered," Angeal tried reasonably, "that maybe, in this place, we're all heroes now? I mean, honestly, do you think that the damned are welcomed to the planet's bosom?"

Genesis' mouth hung open a moment, the retort that had been on his tongue having evaporated at the hopeful logic in Angeal's words. He managed to regain his dignity before Sephiroth turned around again, but only just. "Do you really think that's possible?"

"Why not?" Angeal said with a relieved smile. "I've been told before that these aren't monster wings, but angel wings; maybe he was right."

Neon-blue eyes narrowed. "'He' who?"

"Oh, here we go again," Sephiroth murmured under his breath. He sought an exit from the situation, but perverse currents kept pushing him back. "Will you drop it already?" he shouted. "The man's dead, just like us!"

"What, you're afraid 'he' will hear me?"

"I think your point has been lost, friend," Angeal muttered toward the agitated alien hybrid. To Genesis, he said, "Does it matter who said it, if they were right? I'm trying to get this sorted out so we don't spend the rest of eternity at each others' throats, for Goddess' sake!"

"Angel wings, huh?" Genesis growled, flexing his long, black, double-jointed avian accessory and nearly smacking Sephiroth in the head with the thing. "One: I'd expect white. Two: I should think, well, two, to be honest. And three: the molting has GOT to stop!" As if to illustrate, another dozen or so black feathers sprang from his appendage to drift poetically down the 'stream.

Annoyed past reason, Sephiroth brandished his own wing with a snap, sending a cascade of similar tarry feathers skyward. "It's a fact of life, man! Deal with it already!"

"Look, look," Angeal tried in a placating tone, "no matter how many fall out, you still have a full set on, right? I'm not letting it bother me."

"At least you have two!" Genesis whined.

"But they're on the same damn side!" Angeal shouted, his cool having completely snapped. "You think I'm happy about that? What kind of cut-rate superhuman alien angel template were those idiots working with? Or did they buy the kit at Juno-mart? I don't know, I don't care! I'm dead and I'm damn well going to enjoy it!"

For the first time in many years, Genesis and Sephiroth exchanged a look that didn't hint at murder.

"Angeal, my apple fritter? Are you okay?" Genesis asked with full caution.

"Of course I'm okay. I'm dead, and I'm molting. Don't I look okay?"

Sephiroth cleared his throat and gave it a try himself. "Angeal, you may be right about the whole angel business, if we leave the lopsided wings out of it. Look out there, at the living world."

Angeal took a few calming breaths, then looked where his friend was pointing. To be a sport, and because he was a little curious himself, Genesis looked too.

"They're going on with their lives, secure in the knowledge that Some Greater Force is watching over them. Gentlemen, that would be us: I believe we may be guardians in the Lifestream."

Genesis scowled. "Guardians of the Lifestream? That's stupid, the Lifestream doesn't need guardians!"

Sephiroth's left eye twitched dangerously. "No – not of the Lifestream. In the Lifestream. Think back on the things that have happened in your lives, before coming here and since. In a way, we each seem to be watching over a certain area of reality. Genesis, you have a thing for plants and –" He stopped himself from saying "a real hard-on for Loveless" and said instead, "And you really care about the Goddess. Maybe your job now is to watch over the planet."

Genesis considered this, and as he did so, his face brightened with a delighted smile. "Sephiroth, that may be the single most logical and sane thing you've ever said! Well, to me, at least. It makes sense…and it makes up for the molting, more or less."

"And you, Angeal," Sephiroth said, enjoying the momentum of his exposition, "you watch over the people. Not just a few, but any who find themselves up against it, as they say."

Angeal frowned a little. "I think Zack took my job, then…"

"No, you're still needed," Sephiroth added quickly, before Genesis could pounce on the name and start foaming. "Frankly, I think that puppy of yours is too busy chasing a particular skirt…"

Whether aided by supernaturally keen hearing or the flow of the Lifestream itself, his words apparently reached the talked-about: Zack's voice echoed through an unknown distance. "Thanks for giving her the express checkout, Sephir! I missed this girl something fierce!"

Sephiroth paused, shook his head, told himself he'd imagined the whole comment. "Anyway…"

"So, Sephiroth," Genesis asked amiably, "what's your role here?"

"My role?"

"He's right," Angeal chimed in. "If we're all heroes and angels, watching over the world from the all-knowing Lifestream, who do you look after?"

Sephiroth regarded the teeming world beyond and found his awareness pulled gently but inexorably toward a sort of gathering. He considered the people there with mild amusement, then pointed. "Them. I look after them."

And thus was Yaoi-Con bathed with silvery light, and it was good.