headcanon hoard

“A hermit crab,” Angeal answered plainly, and returned to his pot of brewing coffee as the device let out a beep. He was pretty certain there was a “No Pets Allowed” sign plastered somewhere outside the SOLDIER lounge, but who was he to enforce the company rules? He was just here to grab a cup of coffee, fuel himself with much-needed caffeine, and set out to train whichever Thirds felt like showing up today.

Adopting a friend’s pet was, unfortunately, not on the agenda.

Not that Genesis was feeling very acquiescent. “That’s what I believed it to be,” he continued to protest, following Angeal to the array of creams and sweeteners. “I think that blasted snake sold me a phony.”

Angeal peeled the lid off a creamer. “And why would you say that?”

“W-why?! Look at it!” Genesis exclaimed, referring once more to the helix-shaped shell amid the otherwise desolate tank. “This darn thing hasn’t come out since I’ve bought it!”

“Well, why did you go and buy a hermit crab from the Wall Market anyway?” Angeal wanted to know, plunking his empty creamer in the trash can. “Why not go to a pet store?”

“Are we really going to stand here and talk shoulda-coulda-woulda, or are you going to take it off my hands?”

“No, I’m not taking it off your hands!”

“Well, why not?” Genesis frowned. “I’m sure it’s a great pet.”

“You just said it was sick.”

“So? Can’t you cure it?”

“With what?” Angeal laughed, bringing the fixed coffee cup to his lips. “A Curaga?”

“You can try.”

Just as Angeal was about to kindly tell Genesis to clam up, the door to the lounge slid open—Gaia bless—and in glided their younger friend, his expression so unequivocally unbothered that not even the sight of Genesis cradling a two-gallon tank was enough to ruffle those calm, reptilian eyes.

Angeal could practically hear the inspiration coming alight in Genesis’s mind.

“Sephiroth! My friend’o’chum!” Genesis met his companion halfway across the lounge, a vulpine gleam in the mako-blue eyes. “How are you? Did you sleep well? My, oh, my, is it nice to see you today~!”

Wooden, Sephiroth glanced past Genesis and toward the silent Angeal.

“Is he drunk?”

“He wants you to have his hermit crab,” Angeal explained through a sip of coffee. “It’s apparently 'broken.'"

“There’s nothing apparent about it!” Genesis insisted, then immediately slapped a smile back on as he coaxed the tank toward Sephiroth’s arms, adding in good spirits, “So, what do you say? You want a pet shell? I hear they’re easy to take care of.”

“Genesis, come on—“

“No, no.” Sephiroth stopped Angeal mid-sigh, much to the surprise of both him and Genesis. “It’s all right; I’ll take him.”

Genesis needed a moment to blink. “…You will?”

“You will?” Angeal echoed.

“Of course,” Sephiroth answered, and smiled quietly at the shell as he bent down to examine it. “I love arthropods.”

Truthfully, it didn’t matter if Sephiroth said he enjoyed its phylum or if he was going to steam it later—Genesis was just glad to have willing arms to transfer the tank into, and he wasted not a second plunking said tank into them.

“Well,” he said, watching with a smile as Sephiroth accepted the enclosure and peered curiously into it, “enjoy your pet shell, my friend! I’m sure it will make a great…”

“Oh,” Sephiroth hummed, and his smile broadened as a small, ember-orange bulb poked out of the shell, a splay of spidery legs skittering across the tank to meet the kind eyes gazing into its tank. "Hello there, little one.”

“……….pet.”

“Now, let’s get you some decor for your enclosure, shall we? It must be quite lonely in there, no? …"

Genesis watched as Sephiroth sailed through the exit, murmuring pleasantries to his new companion, until the cascade of silver hair disappeared from view.

Angeal took a long, nonchalant sip of coffee.

Genesis stared listlessly into the hallway.