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everything has led to this (and there are no regrets)

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“I can’t believe this is real.” 

Cloud hums his agreement, leaning further into Zack’s side, still nursing a glass of half drank champagne, cheeks flushed lightly. Zack’s fingers come up to play with his hair, ruining the brushed to the side style it had when this whole thing started, both of them watching the scenes in front of them. 

Reno and Aerith are drunk karaoking, Rude and Tifa barely controlling them from slurring half correct lyrics even worse than they already are. Tseng and Rufus are half asleep, drunk cuddling on the couch  (which they’ll deny ever doing, even in the face of the photo evidence that Reno took  plently  of earlier).  Barrett is upstairs, tucking in Denzel and Marlene for the night. Cid and  Yuffie  are teaming up  (a miracle honestly)  to argue with Genesis about the best way to braid hair, Vincent’s and Sephiroth’s hair in their hands, the two men in question sitting on the floor in a semi-serious game of cards with Angeal, Reeve, Kunsel and Elena. Red’s head is propped on the Elena’s lap, the woman absently mindedly scratching his ears, Cait Sith sprawled across his back. At the bar, his Ma and Zack’s parents are sharing embarrassing childhood stories with Jessie, Wedge, and Biggs. 

“Life is a strange.” 

“Especially when there are aliens,” Zack adds, his own cheeks flushed warm with liquor, and Cloud snickers, taking a sip of his drink. He’s glad that the main event is over, allowing  (purely for the sake of tradition that even Reno decided to go along with and not have his chest half way out of his shirt- or it was the fear of  Tifa  kicking his ass, who knows)  them to strip off suit jackets and ties, and roll up sleeves  (the girls being the first ones to kick off heels)

“Do you regret any of this?” Cloud asks, softly  (annoying little voice nagging in brain, telling him he doesn’t deserve any of this, that this is all a dream and he’ll wake up back to reality where he doesn’t have any of this, because he-)  Zack presses a kiss to his forehead, completely stopping the downward spiral of thoughts  (something he’s very good at) , tilting his head farther back, capturing his mouth in a soft kiss. Eagerly responding, Cloud turns enough for Zack’s arms to lazily loop around his waist, tugging him closer, his own hands cupping Zack’s face.  

Zack pulls away first, pressing his forehead against Cloud’s, his left hand coming up to cup Cloud’s hand  (gold shining in dim light) . “Never,” he says, smile still impossibly wide  (just like the day they met and  every  day afterwards) , “how can I when everything has led me to you?” 

“Sap,” Cloud chides, face warmer now  (and sadly he can’t blame the  alcohol ),  thumb tracing the curve of Zack’s cheek  (gold hidden in the shadow of Zack’s hair)

“Well, unfortunately for you,” Zack teases, rubbing their noses together, “you’re stuck with me forever. Isn’t that right, Mr. Fair-Strife?” 

“I guess you’re lucky that I’m completely in love with you, Mr. Fair-Strife.” 

Zack  (his husband of only a few hours but the love of his life forever)  laughs and leans in for another kiss, Cloud meeting him partway.  

(For every regret he does have, Cloud will never regret anything that has led him here.)