Woven Ties

Woven Ties


//

Two days later a small airship landed neatly on a small, grassy pitch, used for a makeshift landing pad. It waited patiently for its three passengers to descend, before rising and taking to the sky once again. It was gone a second later. Warm rays shone down as the figures made their way into the town. A bundle of leather sat snugly in the arms of one. They approached a neat house and tapped on the kitchen door before opening it and stepping in.

“Cid?” Tifa called, leaning in. Barret, with Marlene holding his good hand, gently pushed her in and shut the door behind.

Another door opened from the far side of the kitchen, and Shera’s brown eyes looked out curiously to see her guests. She smiled softly and closed the workroom to move across the kitchen towards them, greeting them in a tone just a little quieter than normal.

“Cid’s upstairs,” Shera told them. She seemed happy, but underlying her expression was a touch of sadness. Or pity. She had seen the entire team when they had barged into the Highwind house two days ago. She had been overcome with relief when she saw Vincent. Cid had left the explaining to the rest of his team, and she had been given an account of the past ordeal.

Tifa nodded in thanks. “How’s he doing?” She asked, her tone referring to the other ‘Highwind’.

The basis for the touch of sadness was the very subject she had questioned. Shera made a sympathetic face. “Whatever they did, it’s not agreeing with him. Poor man…”

They shared a few more words before Shera returned to her work and the trio made their way up the stairs to Cid’s bedroom. Tifa knocked quietly on the door and entered after a seconds pause.

Cid looked up from his seat on the edge of the bed and gave a brief smile of welcoming. Under the bed sheets lay Vincent.

“Hey,” Tifa said softly as she, Barret and Marlene walked into the room, closing the door behind. “We retrieved this.” She held up her visiting gift and smiled. It was Vincent’s repaired leather. “It’s been sat in the store for two weeks…”

Cid smiled. It was a pleasant expression but not as exuberant as his usual facial displays. “Just when I was gonna go buy him some clothes of his own…” He pretended to be disappointed.

“Is Vincent awake?” Marlene spoke up hesitantly, still holding Barret’s hand. In her other hand she held something else.

Cid nodded and jerked his head, gesturing for the little girl to come to him. “Come say hi.”

Marlene detached herself from Barret and jogged over to the bedside, placing a gentle hand on the sheets. Her brown eyes cast over Vincent’s pale, motionless face, and after a second she looked questioningly at Cid.

The pilot reached a hand to the gunman’s face and stroked his cheek. “Hey, Vince. Marlene’s here to see yer… c’mon, babe…”

A pair of heavy crimson eyes battled their way open a sliver, roused from a semi-conscious state by Cid’s voice. His brow twitched and a hitched breath escaped him. Cid drew his knuckles gently across his cheek.

“Hi, Vincent…” Marlene said in a childlike innocence. She watched the man lying before her with concern in her eyes. Despite his sometimes-frightening appearance, he had always been kind to her, and she looked upon him as a relative. Barret would sometimes call him Uncle Vincent for her. She liked that. Of all her ‘uncles’ Vincent was the quietest, but no less loved. But he had always radiated strength…it seemed so wrong that he was like this.

“He can hear yer, Sweetheart,” Cid assures her. “He just can’t move at the minute…”

Marlene nodded and looked back at the gunman. She revealed the object in her other hand and held it out for Vincent to see. “I made you a get-well card,” she told him. “It’s got you and Uncle Cid holding hands. Daddy said it’d make you smile.”

Cid grinned, amused, and looked at Barret who shrugged, feigning innocence. The pilot looked back at Marlene and gave her hair an affectionate ruffle. “Tell yer what, if we put that there –” he took the card from her gently and stood it on the nightstand “ – Vincent can look at it properly when he wakes up. Sound good?”

Marlene smiled and nodded.

Fifteen minutes later found the four of them descending the stairs and entering the kitchen. Cid began to make drinks as they took a seat at the table.

“Peter Willis was finally returned the other day,” Tifa started conversationally as Marlene sat next to her. “You know – Reeve’s friend. He wanted to apologize to Vincent personally for making that sedative. I told him to wait a while…”

Cid scowled angrily as he turned from the kitchen countertop and leant back on it. “Tch. I don’t think Vincent can appreciate an apology right now,” he said bitterly. “That drug ain’t agreein’ with his body, at all…. Been throwin’ up in the rare times he’s actually awake…” Cid sighed, conflictingly. “Causing him bad headaches, too, but medicine don’t work for him…” He trailed off.

Tifa and Barret winced sympathetically. They were so glad to have Vincent back, but his recovery wasn’t something they could celebrate through.

“Can he even talk yet?” Barret asked.

Cid shook his head slowly. “He’s just so weak… he can’t move on his own…for a man like Vince to suffer like this…it ain’t right…”

They were all quiet for a minute, reflecting on the past ordeal they had been through. Marlene fidgeted in her seat. Cid finished their drinks and returned to the table, passing two steaming mugs to Tifa and Barret, a glass of juice to Marlene, and slid into the chair opposite them all.

“Reeve said the Protomateria would take days for it to lose its excess power,” Cid broke the silence, and paused. “Or weeks…”

“What’s the Proto-materia?” Marlene asked, looking curious from Barret to Tifa to Cid.

Tifa looked affectionately at her. “It’s what’s making Vincent ill,” she explained simply. “It’s a materia inside his body, and someone tampered with it.” They had never explained it to Marlene before, hoping Vincent might one day decide to do so himself if he wanted, but it would be arrogant of them to keep her in the dark now. Especially when she had seen Vincent’s current state. She cared for him, and she deserved to know, if only a little.

“A materia inside him?” Marlene looked confused. “Can you do that?”

“Only for Vincent. It’s a special materia.”

Part of Marlene’s curiosity had been satisfied, so she sat back and processed this new information while the three adults sat in pensive silence, occasionally sipping their drinks. Shera’s tinkering in the next room broke the quiet. Finally, Barret looked at his daughter.

“Marlene, why don’t you go see what’s on Cid’s TV, huh?” He offered, enticing her out of the kitchen.

The young girl smiled and looked at Cid for permission, and when granted, took off into the living room. Barret turned to Cid.

“…You think there’ll be any other Chaos incidents in the future…?”

Cid eyed him, pondering his question seriously for a few, quiet seconds. “I hope not,” was all he said.

“Vincent is strong,” Tifa assured him softly, though he already knew this.

Cid nodded. “I know. He’s the strongest man alive… If he don’t let himself get stupidly weak again I don’t think Chaos’ll ever overcome him.” There was a touch of fondness in his tone that he had never used before. The pilot huffed and smiled to himself, remembering when he had asked Vincent about the Mideel incident. They had been in bed together. If only Vincent hadn’t been in Mideel at that time, then Drumbol would never have known… Something echoed in the back of his mind and the small smile on his rugged features slipped away.

Tifa cocked her head, watching his expression. Her dark hair cascaded over her shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

Cid blinked and looked at her, as though unaware she had been there. A corner of his mouth tugged in a grimace. “Something Drumbol said…”

“…That Vincent will live longer than us…?”

He blinked at her again, surprised she had caught on to his troubled thoughts. “Yeah…” He shook his head softly. “Damn, I can’t even think about it… I hope Drumbol does find a way in our lifetime…”

“To remove the gene?” Barret asked. He hadn’t really known all the details surrounding Vincent’s body and how it played host to Chaos until this ordeal. It really threw light on the situation the gunman was in.

“Is Chaos responsible for Vincent not aging…?” Tifa asked, unsure. None of them were, but they knew enough to concoct a reasonable conclusion.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure. If he was gone, Vincent could live like the rest of us,” Cid replied distantly. He shifted in his chair and forced a rogue grin. “At least he’ll stay beautiful, though…” His attempt to lighten the mood was weak, and his friends could only offer half-hearted smiles.

They continued to talk for a little while, wondering about certain actions the CSC had caused in order to capture Vincent. There were still some things left in the dark, but all they could do was speculate and guess. Shera reappeared and announced she would be visiting her mother. She wouldn’t be back until late. It was the first time she had left the house – or the Captain – since Vincent’s abduction. Now he had friends with him she felt easier leaving him.

Eventually the day set, and the sun sunk low in the sky, darkening the town in the approaching dusk. Tifa, Barret and Marlene bid their goodbyes, and promised to visit again soon. When they were gone Cid trudged back into the kitchen and dumped the empty cups into the sink. He then made his way back up to his room with a glass of water.

It was dark in his bedroom. The curtains were still open, allowing what little light was left to filter in. Cid switched on a small, dim touch-lamp, illuminating the dark. He set the glass down and sat carefully on the edge of the bed. His tired, blue eyes skimmed over the face of his lover.

“Hey, beautiful,” he said, bringing the man from his slumber. He put a hand on Vincent’s nearest shoulder and applied a little pressure. “C’mon, Vince…”

A second later Vincent’s blood-red eyes cracked open drowsily. He blinked continuously, trying to focus, but his lids would not open fully.

“Got yer a drink. C’mon, sit up…” Cid slid an arm under Vincent’s shoulders and the other supported his torso as he helped the limp gunman into a better position. He managed to pull the pillows up a bit as he settled Vincent back into them. He paused, watching his partner’s face for a second. In a more upright position, the man was able to wake up just a little bit more. He grunted softly as Cid thumbed his bangs from his face. “That was Tifa, Barret and Marlene. They left a few minutes ago,” Cid told him as he reached for the glass of water. Using his other hand he cupped Vincent’s chin and tilted his head up slightly, pressing the rim of the glass to his lips.

Vincent took a few sips, feeling the cold water slid down his throat soothingly, dampening his dry mouth. His mind and body were heavy, barely responding to his brain. He felt vulnerable and weak… pathetic. But he was free. Cid had told him why he felt so sedated, but he couldn’t remember…his memory had been affected…He was so tired… So frustrated…

Cid lowered the glass to wipe a stray droplet trickling down Vincent’s chin. “Marlene’s left yer a card. Yer can see it when yer wake up a bit.” He pressed the glass back to the gunman’s mouth, and when the last of the water was swallowed, set it down and thumbed away moisture from the corners of Vincent’s mouth. He sat still for a second and watched him, feeling his chest swell to have Vincent back, safe and sound. He only wished he wasn’t suffering like this. “Won’t be long, Vince… You’ll be back to yerself soon.” Cid leant forward and pressed a soft kiss on Vincent’s cheekbone, running his hand through the man’s long hair. He pulled back slightly and straightened the collar of the button shirt he had dressed Vincent in. For comfort’s sake, Cid had dug out a loose cotton shirt and a pair of shorts for his partner.

“C…id,” Vincent sighed, his lips formed the name around an escaped breath.

The pilot ran a soothing hand down the back of Vincent’s hair, taking comfort from the feel. “I’m here, babe… I won’t leave yer.” His chest ached. He didn’t want to see Vincent like this… “I’m here…”

//

A further three days later passed by slowly. Painfully slowly. The weather was undecided if it wanted to rain or simply look miserable. Clouds blanketed the sky, shadowing Rocket Town in dim light. Cid glanced out the kitchen window as he poured a hot mixture of soup into a white bowl. The smell made his own stomach growl.

A few townspeople – friends – had stopped by respectfully to offer their company for Cid. They weren’t in possession of the full facts, but they knew that something had happened during the past weeks. They were glad to see he had recovered well from his illness, and when filled in on the truth, were outraged and shocked.

Shera had been incredibly helpful, despite her own misfortune. Her boyfriend, Bertus, had broken off their relationship. Though she was upset, she was a strong woman, and kept her chin held high. Cid had been there for her, as she had been there for him. Even though he wasn’t sad to see the man gone, he wished Shera could have found someone who hadn’t disappointed and upset her.

Cid reached across to a draw and pulled out a spoon. A thump from the stairway caught his attention and he turned around – only to start. “Vince – what the hell are yer doing outta bed?” He set the hot soup and spoon down and rushed to his partner, pulling Vincent’s gauntleted arm around his shoulders to support the man the rest of the way into the kitchen. “Idiot. I told yer to stay in bed just a bit longer.”

“I’m going stir crazy…” Vincent murmured sluggishly, his deep voice was weak and quiet.

Cid winced sympathetically. “I know, babe, but yer can hardly walk.” He helped Vincent into a chair and affectionately pulled his hair back over his shoulders. Vincent leant his arms on the table and drooped heavily over them. Cid crouched down, a hand on his back, and pressed a kiss to the man’s temple. “You never listen to me,” he chuckled softly.

“Hm…” Vincent attempted to mimic the sound, but his voice was just too tired. He was still clothed in the loose shirt, buttons half-way done, and the pair of lime boxers Cid had given him. He wasn’t even aware of what he was wearing.

Cid stood and retrieved the soup. He brought it back to the table and sat it in front of Vincent. “I got a different flavor soup. Try it.”

Vincent struggled to sit up properly and took the spoon in hand. It smelled nice. He had eaten nothing but soup for the past two days, since his stomach had settled somewhat, and he was quickly getting bored of it. However, neither Cid nor he wanted to try him on solids. Despite being able to stomach soup, it was still sometimes rejected. Literally.

Cid took the seat next to him after supplying Vincent with a glass of cool water, and propped an elbow on the table as he watched. Vincent had slowly been fighting the power of the Protomateria, but this was his first time up and about. He was relieved Vincent was able to talk coherently.

“Do you remember anything…anything I said to you a couple of days ago?” Cid asked.

Vincent swallowed a shaky spoonful, forcing it down his uncooperative throat. The heat of the soup felt both pleasant and irritating. He paused at Cid’s question. “I have a few...broken memories. Blurred and unclear…” His red eyes, which were even more unnaturally vibrant than usual, turned to Cid, tiredly. “What…happened to me…?”

Cid gently lowered Vincent’s spoon hand and put it on his back as he hutched closer. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

Vincent blinked listlessly as he lowered his head onto his arm, unable to hold it up any longer. “I…remember you… I was…in your arms.”

The pilot tiled his head very slightly, inquisitively. “At the CSC?”

Vincent frowned and shook his head faintly. “At the crater…”

“That was back when you were abducted…two weeks ago,” Cid said softly. He paused, not wanting to remember the past fortnight. He didn’t want to tell Vincent what he had been through, how they had come to find Vincent, and why he had been abducted… “You were kidnapped. Remember the CSC? They took yer and held yer at their center.” Vincent gave no reaction. Cid watched him. “We found out that Drumbol was lying… My illness? That was set-up. Just so they could get a blood sample from you.”

“You’re… alright…?”

Cid smiled at the genuine concern in his voice. “Yeah… no long lastin’ damage. Thanks to a friend of Tifa’s, the gang found out what was happenin’ and got me outta there.” Vincent cracked an eye open questioningly, and Cid explained vaguely what had happened to him. Vincent’s gaze darkened by this. Perhaps Cid should have left his hospital ordeal out…

By the time he had finished his retelling, it had started to rain outside. Cid reheated Vincent’s soup, but kept hold of it. Vincent was too tired, physically and mentally, to do anything but breathe. He had listened silently to Cid’s explaining…but he felt unemotional in reaction. He felt numb…his only feeling had been towards Cid’s recollection of his coma. He had experienced anger… possession… Something inside him felt compelled to deal out vengeance…

“…W….Why…?” He rasped slowly. Cid had told him what had happened, but not why.

The pilot hesitated. “Chaos,” he said after a second. “They were afraid of him. Afraid he would destroy the planet.”

Vincent’s eyes close in acceptance of this explanation. He let a soft sigh escape him. Somehow he had known this would come down to one of his demons. He had never expected to lead a quiet life, not with four beasts of unimaginable power inside his body, but he hadn’t reckoned on getting abducted for the sake of the planet. He really didn’t think anyone else would know – or even believe – of Chaos. He felt no surprise for the kidnap; he didn’t even feel angry for what they did to him…but what they did to Cid to get to him made his blood boil. Cid had suffered because of him…

In the silence that followed, a quiet grumbling met their ears. Vincent’s stomach.

Cid grinned. He set the bowl down and reached for Vincent. “C’mere,” he said as he pulled the drowsy man gently to his feet. “Yer can lie down on the couch and eat.” He slid an arm around Vincent’s slender waist and draped the man’s gauntlet over his shoulder, and then slowly made their way into the living room. Cid lowered him onto the sofa cushions, lifting his legs up, making him comfy. He propped a pillow against the couch arm under Vincent’s neck, inclining his head. “I’ll get yer soup.” The blond returned to the kitchen and came back with the bowl. Vincent eyed him curiously as he climbed onto the couch next to him and settled on his side, facing him, soup nestled in one hand, spoon poised in the other.

“Cid, I can…feed myself…”

“Yeah. Sure,” Cid responded with as much love in his sarcastic tone as possible. He pressed a kiss to Vincent’s hair, smiling. “Let me have this privilege at least,” he teased warmly.

Vincent gave him a look that, despite lacking energy, managed to seem like his usual self. However, he accepted Cid’s ‘request’, albeit a little grudgingly, and let Cid feed him. The soup was hot and stung his tongue, but his stomach gratefully ceased rumbling. It was strange to admit it, but as they both laid there Vincent realized it felt good to have Cid by his side in his time of weakness, taking care of him. He felt safe… Protected.

As he raised another spoonful to Vincent’s lips, a generous waft of the soup reached Cid’s nose. “Mm,” he uttered, inhaling the smell. He took the spook back from his partner’s mouth and dipped it into the liquid meal before raising it to his own for a taste. It was nice, and tasted as good as it smelt. “Not bad,” Cid gave his approval, glad he had asked Shera to buy a different flavor.

“Then you…can have the rest of it,” Vincent replied, closing his heavy eyes and letting out another soft sigh. Despite his discomfort he felt content against Cid’s body and warmth. He wondered what had gone through Cid’s mind during his absence, what he had done to find him… Had Cid been scared? Had it seemed like he would never find Vincent? The gunman heard the gentle clink of the spoon and Cid’s movements ceased. He slid his crimson eyes open to find Cid’s clear blue ones watching him lovingly. Endearingly. Vincent found himself speaking, “A few years ago…I would have…agreed with what the CSC did to me…” His eyes locked onto Cid’s, a serious but calming moment passed between them. Cid waited patiently for him to continue, the soup bowl lay half empty in his hands. “I’m…wary of doctors…scientists…but I would have given…myself back to them. The burden of what I carry…was too heavy, and I was weak…” His gaze played across Cid’s face. “…Now I have something to live for… To keep me strong.”

Cid’s gentle face softened into a sentimental expression, and a warm smile tugged at his lips. He said nothing as he leant closer and took Vincent’s lips in a slow, deliberate kiss. Vincent melted into it before Cid pulled away.

“Damn, I missed you,” Cid whispered.

Vincent felt his heart warm at the man’s words. His eyes fluttered down to Cid’s lips, a silent request to touch them again, and Cid closed the gap between them, kissing Vincent with tenderness. A tanned hand found its way onto the gunman’s face, cupping it lovingly as their lips played across each other’s. After a few seconds, Cid pulled back slightly to deposit the bowl on the floor. When he turned back he took hold of his lover’s body and shifted himself halfway underneath him, feeling the reassuring weight upon his own. Settled and comfy, Cid directed Vincent’s lips back to his own, feeling addicted to them. They were perfect, and he had missed them terribly. He was elated to have Vincent back, but he feared he would become too protective, too over-possessive, of his partner now… something Vincent might not appreciate a lot, considering his nature.

“Hey…” Cid began with the air of interesting news. “Chaos submitted to me,” he announced smugly against Vincent’s lips, remembering how fearsome the beast was without Vincent controlling him.

Through his drowsy expression, Vincent managed to look alarmed. “He…broke free?” He asked in-between Cid’s demanding kisses. It seemed neither wanted to stop, even though they were talking.

“Only for a minute,” Cid assured him smoothly. “We had a stare down…I won.” He smiled, tickling Vincent’s lips with the pull of his own. “It seems now all yer beasts accept me.” The smiled widened. “I’m your mate.”

Vincent’s eyes twinkled, amused. He let free a quiet chuckle. “Hm.”

To this Cid grinned and pushed forward a little more vigorously, delivering kiss after kiss upon Vincent’s eager lips.

They were so lost in each other they didn’t hear Shera come in. She smiled, and waited a second before making herself known. “Captain,” she said. When they parted from each other to look at her she held up Cid’s PHS, her palm was covering the mouthpiece. “Reeve Tuesti’s on the phone.” When he beckoned for it she walked over and handed him the phone. She took the soup bowl with her as she left.

“Yeah?” Cid spoke into his cell.

“Cid, I hope I didn’t disturb you,” came Reeve’s voice. “How is Vincent doing?”

“Vince’s doin’ a lot better,” Cid answered, looking at his lover. “Still dozy, though.”

“Yes, Drumbol said the Protomateria would be slow in losing its excess power. I hope he’s not suffering too much.”

“He’s awake if yer wanna talk to him.”

“No, I don’t want to bother him. I doubt he would want me to hear him in his current condition. You know how he is…”

Cid grinned. Vincent could hear the commissioner clearly at his range so close to the pilot. The gunman gave him a look. “Yeah. I’ll tell him yer give him yer regards.”

“Please do…” He paused, letting his sentence hang for a few seconds, clearly wanting to voice something more. “About the CSC…I’m going to keep a close eye on them. They may have given up this time, but I fear if they find an advantage we can’t fight against they’ll take it…”

Cid lowered his eyes from Vincent’s face, his eyes glazing over seriously. “What do yer mean…advantage?”

Reeve took an audible sigh. “Drumbol told me that they would let the whole planet know of Chaos if they had to…you and I both know we can’t let that happen…we wouldn’t be able to protect Vincent against the inevitable panic. Authorities from all around would demand his captivity…” He trailed off. Cid glanced at Vincent. The gunman had lowered his own gaze. “So many things now trouble me, Cid…” Reeve continued. He sounded plagued with thoughts and worries. “Drumbol raised so many good points… I can’t help thinking another confrontation with the CSC is down our future.”

Cid would have taken the phone away to speak in private, but there was no where save for outside that Vincent wouldn’t hear him, and Cid didn’t want to intentionally bar Vincent from listening to that extreme. He sighed softly through his nose.

“We’re all here for Vincent, Reeve,” Cid finally said. “We’ll make sure nothing happens, but you can bet yer ass Vincent will, as well…”

“Yes. Yes, of course. He’s proven his strength more than once… I don’t doubt him…it’s just…after witnessing Chaos’ short breakout at the CSC, it really threw light onto what Drumbol was trying to explain…. That Chaos is powerful….not to be underestimated.” Reeve sighed again. “I just wish there was a way to remove Chaos from Vincent….” There was a short pause. “Well, best be off. I’ll leave you to your lover.” There was a smile in his words, one that, despite the previous topic, reached Cid’s lips as well. “I wasn’t surprised, you know… when I put two and two together. But I’m glad for you both, Cid… I’m glad Vincent has someone like you.”

Cid let a soft noise of amusement. “Thanks, Reeve.”

Their conversation ended with an exchange of goodbyes, and Cid put his phone on the floor by the couch. He looked at Vincent. “Hey,” he caught his attention, turning his chin up to look at him. “Why the long face?”

“…Seems I caused quite…the trouble,” Vincent replied in a softly spoken but solemn tone.

“Don’t be an idiot. The CSC caused the trouble. There weren’t any way we’d let them have you.” Cid smiled.

Vincent’s crimson eyes found Cid’s, searching them in some questionable way. He seemed to find something in the blonde’s gaze that assured him, and with a very quiet sigh, closed his heavy eyes and rested his head on Cid’s collarbone, listening to the sounds of the man’s steady heartbeat. He felt a broad hand pet the back of his hair, and he was soon lulled into the calling comfort of sleep.

Cid watched, waiting. He wished Vincent hadn’t heard Reeve’s conversation, but at least nothing more was said. The pilot nuzzled the man’s raven hair, a slight tug on his brows as his mind wandered into countless thoughts…

//

The following day Vincent was unable to keep his breakfast (or dinner, considering the time) down. He was no different to yesterday, something that, Cid could see, bothered him. He held his bangs from his face as the gunman’s stomach retched, trying to reject nothing but bile. Vincent’s form shuddered over the kitchen sink, having been unable to make it to the bathroom. Not that he was even capable. Cid was supporting his body by the counter, a hand around his waist as he continued to heave. His body was shaking, and he was upright only by Cid’s support and the edge of the counter. The pilot had pinned him between himself and the sink. Shera stood nearby, eyebrows furrowed in sympathy, a towel in her hand. Eventually, Vincent’s retching began to slow, and Cid let go of his hair to stoke his back soothingly.

“Yer going back to bed,” Cid told him softly, feeling the man’s vertebrae through the thin material of the shirt. He slowly and gently turned Vincent around, then slid his arm under the man’s knees, carefully lifting him into his arms so as not to upset his vertigo. He didn’t know whether he was glad Vincent wasn’t protesting or not. Cid brought him to his room and gently laid him back under the covers, fingering the man’s bangs from his face. His hair needed a wash, but until Vincent’s body had settled there was no way Cid was letting him up again. Once he had pulled the duvet snugly back over the gunman’s body he turned away.

“Wa…it…” Vincent swallowed, rolling his eyes to the pilot.

Cid danced his fingers on the man’s cheek. “I’m just gonna get the bucket. Just in case,” he smiled. He disappeared from the room and shortly returned with the tin pail, placing it on the floor by the bed. He then climbed onto the opposite side of the bed and snuggled next to he gunman’s body, pushing a hand under the duvet to stroke Vincent’s belly soothingly, hoping the gentle massage would held calm it. “Cloud phoned earlier, before you were up. He said hi. Didn’t think he should come visit yet. Knows yer don’t like to be seen like this.”

Vincent let the barest of smiles pull at his pale lips. “They know…me too well…”

Cid mimicked the expression. “Yuffie was all for comin’ over. But I told her you’d go Chaos on her ass.”

“Did she believe…that?”

“’Course she did. She ain’t here, is she?”

Vincent’s smile widened just that little bit more. Cid bent his head and kissed his hair. His hand continued to rub his partner’s stomach, and he noticed how calmed Vincent was now. His breathing had evened and his pained expression was gone.

“…Never…going to eat…soup again…after…” He breathed, barely a whisper.

Cid grinned. “I’ll get Shera to cook yer somethin’ solid when yer can eat again. Somethin’ meaty.”

Vincent made a quiet noise of approval. His eyes had slid closed and his breathing began to slow. He was asleep a second later.

Cid watched. His hand came to a slow stop but remained on his belly as he bent his head and pressed his lips against Vincent’s eye ridge. He settled his own head down and closed his eyes, hoping that his partner’s suffering would end very soon…

//

That was the last time Vincent vomited his food. His condition improved noticeable in the days after, slowly but surely. Cid was pleased, and although Vincent was too, he was also very frustrated. He had been a prisoner to his own body for a full week, and it had taken its toll on him. Cid noticed his need to release some energy when, on the seventh day, he went for a walk.

“Yer could have told me yer was goin’ for a goddamn walk,” Cid grumbled, folding his arms with a much needed cigarette between his lips. “Came outta the bathroom to find yer gone.”

“I needed some fresh air,” Vincent told him as he walked into the kitchen to make a drink. He had become very thirsty in the past couple of days. “I took advantage of the good weath – ” He trailed off and swayed on his feet dizzily, managing to grip the kitchen countertop before he lost his balance.

Cid watched. It hadn’t been uncommon for Vincent to suffer random vertigo lately. “You okay?”

Vincent blinked and nodded. He made himself and Cid a hot drink of tea, but before he had finished them he filled a glass of water and downed it leisurely, his throat bobbed as he drank. He deposited the glass in the sink and went about finishing their tea. Cid watched him idly. The past week had been rough on the man, but looking at him now no one would believe he had been through what he had. The gunman had discarded Cid’s loaned shirt and shorts for his favored leather and red cape. Cid was almost disappointed, but he could tell the weight of the clothing reassured him. There was some strange mental connection between Vincent and that cape…Cid didn’t understand how that could be, but there was something there…

The tea was made and Vincent took it to the kitchen table, placing the cups down before taking a seat next to Cid.

“Wanna do some sparring later?” Cid offered, hooking a finger through the cup handle and pulling it closer. He raised the other hand to remove his cigarette before taking a drink. “Loosen yer up a bit.”

Vincent nodded. “That sounds good. Though I may be a bit out of shape…”

Cid smiled. “Yer in all the right shape to me,” he said with a sparkle in his energetic blue eyes.

Vincent met his gaze with an energy of his own, amused by Cid’s reply. No one could provoke a feeling inside him as Cid did. And if he wasn’t mistake, Cid’s scent smelt distinctly musky, and his temperature had risen slightly in – wait…how could he know these things? Vincent blinked and looked at the table. His senses had never been that refined before. Yet something in his brain registered the chemical change in Cid’s body as a reaction to Vincent. He wanted to…mate… Vincent blinked hard and shook his head, his bang swaying with the motion.

“You alright?”

Vincent froze for a second, feeling his senses settle and return to normal. How strange. “Yeah. Just a bit dizzy,” he lied.

Cid nodded understandingly as he took a gulp of hot tea. The scorching drink barely fazed him. He cast Vincent a glance, noticing the glazed look in his eyes. The Protomateria’s excess energy was still in effect. Despite acting almost completely normal, Vincent just couldn’t stay awake for a full day. It seemed the more energy he used the faster it burnt out. But it was improving, day by day.

“Shera said there’s a new little café opened up in town,” Cid said, putting his cup down. “We can go there tomorrow if yer feeling up to it.”

Vincent gave him a brief glance and gave an affirmed nod, staring back at his drink.

Cid watched him for a second before deciding his gunman wasn’t going to outlast the evening. He finished the rest of his drink and clasped Vincent’s shoulder. “C’mon,” he announced. “Get yer tea down yer and let’s go spar.”

//

They entered the back garden a few minutes later. Between the plane engines, parts and body kits there was still a sizeable area to maneuver around, and the machinery made for some interesting obstacles.

Cid traded a few warm-up blows with his partner, grinning, glad for the chance to finally get out and get physical. He had been by Vincent’s side almost 24/7 during the past week, so they were both stiff and eager for some action. The pilot, however, had the slight advantage in his usually disadvantaged position: Whereas the gunman was still playing roulette with dizzy spells and random bouts of drowsiness, he was perfectly fit and well.

“C’mon then, beautiful,” Cid danced lightly on the balls of his feet, feeling nicely loose and ready – (he needed to be ready when Vincent sparred).

Vincent smiled – an effect that would have given Cid goose bumps had it not been for the hazy undertone dampening his predatory expression.

No one called it. They never did. Cid was always the first to rush in. The only problem in sparring with Vincent was proximity. Obviously, they only fought lightly, but Vincent’s two favorite weapons were his legs – and damn, were they powerful. Getting close to Vincent to land a point was always a challenge, but Cid was more than up for it. His tactic called for him to get as close to Vincent as possible, to render his long legs useless at such a range. To get in-between them.

And he did just that. Vincent was sluggish, but even so he almost managed to knock back his opponent. Cid was wise more than he was advantageous – he came in from a low angle and slipped under the man’s sweep, rushing up to score a point on Vincent’s chest, knocking him back.

Vincent stumbled away into a graceful spin and dropped to the floor as Cid dashed him again, giving him no time to recover. He appreciated this – Cid would never treat him with anything less than he expected, despite his condition. Vincent rolled quickly under Cid’s advance and struck a back kick into the pilot’s backside. The man burst out laughing roughly, gleefully, and his mood found its infectious way into Vincent. Adrenaline was pumping steadily through their veins as they began working their bodies. Vincent’s bright eyes gleamed excitedly as he turned and rose slowly, watching as Cid repositioned. The grin on his face made Vincent’s heart beat irregularly. A strange reaction…Something told him he was happy to see Cid like this.

Cid rushed in again. Vincent hutched back and struck out. Cid followed him and swung outwards along Vincent’s outstretched leg, spinning to swing an elbow at the gunman’s face. Vincent blocked it, but now Cid was in – he had entered Vincent’s ‘space’ and the man could no longer raise his powerful legs to attack. Instead he was forced to trade upper body techniques and blows, dancing together in a series of stylish movements. Vincent was trained in combat, but his strength was inferior to Cid’s muscle. With the pilot’s combined style of his own he pushed Vincent back quickly – until the man found himself shoved against the empty shell of a plane. Before he could leap away Cid’s body pinned him between them both and his arms were grabbed, held captive on either side of his head. Vincent looked into a pair of vibrant blue eyes, panting sensually. His heavy lids gave him a look of allure that Cid just couldn’t ignore. He crushed their lips together, enjoying a rough, breathless string of kisses before he hooked his leg behind Vincent’s and successfully sprawled him on the floor. The pilot followed him down, planting his lips back over the gunman’s after they broke for air. Vincent seemed more than eager to accept his position, allowing Cid to nudge his legs apart and settle between them. His mind went blank with arousal and desire, drugged by the powerful sensations entering him through their connected lips. He could smell that musky scent again, sense the increase in body temperature and heartbeat, but this time it excited him. His let his natural instincts take over, allowing his lust to control him. He bowed his body up into Cid enticingly, encouragingly.

However, despite his willing body and mind, his earlier actions began to take their toll. His head felt heavy, and for a second he wasn’t sure for what reason – whether it was from arousal or fatigue. Cid continued to kiss him deeply, twisting his tongue around the gunman’s, but his response was dimming. Vincent grunted weakly in frustration, wanting so badly to continue. But his body failed to obey him.

Cid pecked his lips a few times more before he ceased and looked down. He knew immediately what was happening. He uttered a humored chuckle. “Great timin’” he muttered with a smile. He restrained the excited hormones running rampant through his body and stroked Vincent’s face tenderly. He watched the man battle his body, but he couldn’t fight it this time, just as he couldn’t the last.

“Hn…keep going…” Vincent offered, ghosting a smile.

Cid stared. It was a rare pleasure to witness Vincent’s humor. His offer was enticing though… “Hm, don’t tempt me,” Cid replied with a grin. He calmed his body and slid his hands around Vincent’s upper chest, hauling him gently to his feet. “Let’s get yer inside.” He helped the gunman through the garden to the back door, and smiled as Vincent tried to stifle a yawn. They made it back to Cid’s room, where Vincent sat on the edge of the bed, trying in vain to look less affected than he really was. Cid pushed him down, and then pulled the duvet over him. He perched himself on the edge. “Wasn’t gonna attack yer ‘til you were completely sober,” Cid said as he glanced at him, smirking. “But yer just so damn hot.” He bent down slowly, brushing his lips a hairs width from Vincent’s. “Just lookin’ at yer makes me hard.” He kissed them.

Vincent responded with the energy he had left, letting a tired smile grace his features. “Best not look at me in public, then…”

Cid pretended to think about it, tilting his head thoughtfully. “Eeeh, so long as there’s a secluded alley way nearby, I don’t see the problem.” He grinned. Controlling his itching hands, he pressed one more kiss to Vincent’s lips. “Get some sleep.” He stood. “I’ll be joinin’ yer in a few hours.” With that he made his way to the curtains and drew them, blocking the daylight from the room, before walking to the door. He looked back. Vincent glanced sleepily at him, and they shared a smile. Cid left the room and closed the door, lingering for a second behind it. His body felt light with happiness.

How corny. But it felt incredible.

//

“Feelin’ up for a walk into town?”

The sun was shining, having chased away the dull rain clouds that afternoon, and it beckoned them out into the fresh air. A ray of sunlight shone through the kitchen window, lighting up the spiky bangs on Vincent’s head. He turned from the sink with a glass of water, looking refreshed and undeniable radiant, despite his unchanged appearance.

“Yeah,” the gunman replied with a pleased tone. He had never been cooped up for so long since his awakening from that coffin, and was happy for any plans.

Cid nodded, tapping his cigarette butt into the ashtray on the table. “Yer have to do me one favor, though.”

Vincent paused, the rim of the glass at his lips. He lowered it slightly, casting Cid a curious look.

“I want yer to wear somethin’ … more casual.”

Vincent blinked, questioningly. “I don’t have anything else.”

Cid smiled and took a quick drag of his cigarette, expelling the smoke as he spoke. “Yer do as of a few days ago. After seein’ yer in my clothes, I decided it’s a crime to hide that body in yer damned leather all the time. Got yer a couple of things.”

“I’m comfortable in my leather.”

“Just try ‘em on,” Cid reasoned. “If they aint comfy then I’ll take ‘em back.”

Vincent regarded this for a second. “Okay.” He had never seen a reason to buy new clothes before. His leather was practical and endured all weathers. He had done nothing but fight and travel in it…but now…now was different. He had unofficially settled down for an (undetermined) amount of time, and in the mix of Rocket Towners, he stood out unnecessarily. He hadn’t owned a second set of clothes since his Turk days.

He found himself upstairs a minute later, opening the wardrobe to find the mentioned garments folded up on the floor. As he was pulling them out, a pair of arms encircled him.

“Another thing…” Cid began, pushing into Vincent. “I’ve gotta dress yer.”

Vincent was surprised he hadn’t heard Cid enter behind him. As he was maneuvered away from the wardrobe he wondered why Cid enjoyed seeing him in civvies so much. Did he honestly look good in them? His gauntlet spoiled any chance of a normal appearance, for which case he never bothered. But Cid saw something he so obviously liked. And, Vincent admitted, if it was for Cid, he would grant him this request just to see the approval on the man’s rugged face.

His cape had already been removed as he stood there with the clothing in hand. Cid’s lips found his neck and planted a sloppy kiss as a hand tossed the red cape onto the bed. They began at the buckles on his leather, stripping him of his heavy, but comfortable attire. Cid seemed to enjoy such simple things as this, and it made Vincent feel normal. His thoughts were abruptly wiped from his mind as he was pushed onto the bed suddenly. Cid used his position to pull off his leather completely. Vincent didn’t really have to do anything; the pilot was good to do all the work. He found himself wondering if Cid had ever done this with a previous lover. Perhaps an old girlfriend? Had he treated them like he treated him? Had he been as infatuated with their bodies as he was his? His thoughts would be left unanswered, as he was in no desire to voice them.

A pair of jeans was rolled onto his legs, and Cid jerked Vincent back onto his feet against his body, sliding the pants slowly up the length of his thighs, past his buttocks. They sat on his hips as Cid fingered the fly and button closed, smirking in a self-satisfied way. Even once the jeans were done up he still couldn’t resist swirling a hand around to grope his backside. Vincent felt like a piece of juicy meat hanging helplessly in a butcher’s window. The odd thing was, he was enjoying the attention.


Vincent looked at the shirt in his hand, finally taking notice of the clothing he had pulled from the wardrobe. Cid took it from his hand and stepped back to offer the open garment for Vincent to slide his arms into. He did do, fisting his talons as not to snag the material. It felt cool and soft against his skin, much, much lighter than his preferred leather, but not unpleasant. Cid obviously knew more about clothes than he did. Vincent looked down to watch Cid’s fingers deftly button up his shirt before raising his eyes to the pilot’s, curiously. Cid’s blue gaze looked away from his work to meet Vincent’s, and he grinned.

“Women and men are gonna be jealous when I walk through the streets with you,” he said, straightening Vincent’s new shirt and stepping back.

“I may not want to go into town with you again after this,” Vincent said, the mirth in his tone more than his expression – which was passive as always.

“Hn, well at least I get one day with yer,” Cid replied.

They finally left the house and stepped into the bright sunshine and fresh air, leaving Shera relaxing in the back garden with a book. Rocket Town wasn’t huge, but it was still a fair walk into the center. It took them twenty minutes to find the new café. It was a nice shop with plenty of seating outside, fenced in by stylish black railings. The walk had eased up some trapped energy within Vincent, but despite looking forward to a drink, he also wanted to keep walking – running, if possible. But he held his tongue as Cid welcomed the new establishment with a friendly greeting. The proprietors were Rocket Towners, so they were friends. A short conversation followed before Cid and Vincent stepped back outside and took a table.

“So what can I get you, Cid?” The manager himself came back out to deal with them.

“Yer know what I want,” Cid grinned, and then waved a hand to Vincent. “Vince?”

The gunman paused for a second. Other than tea and coffee…what other drinks could be ordered…? He actually couldn’t remember.

“Hot chocolate,” Cid answered for him, pulling out a cigarette. “He could do with somethin’ sweet.”

“Whipped cream?” The manager asked, smiling.

A completely inappropriate image popped into Cid’s head and he nodded. “Mmm…” He blinked. “Yeah,” he answered, pulling himself out of his fantasy. “And marshmallows.”

“Is this your drink or mine?” Vincent asked, leveling his red eyes at Cid.

“We’ll see when it gets here. Hey, Paul, yer got any muffins?”

A few minutes later found them both supplied with drinks, compliments of the manager, and a raspberry muffin each. Their location had a lovely view of a nearby stream, trickling between trees and disappearing behind a building, and occasionally people wandered by and called out to Cid. He waved back.

Vincent studied Cid as he cupped his hot chocolate and watched his partner calling to someone across the street. He was the foundation of this town, one of the relied-upon and well-known people in Rocket Town. Had he input himself into it, or had popularity come from another source?

Cid caught him watching. “Checkin’ me out?”

“How did you become so important to Rocket Town…?” Vincent asked him curiously.

“How?” Cid seemed mildly surprised by the question, but he considered it thoughtfully. “I dunno. It just sort of happened.”

Vincent looked at him. To him, Cid had that personality that showcased his capability and strength. With every action, every word, he told people he took no hassle from anyone. He was so confident and open, it almost made Vincent feel…jealous… Not for himself, but for anyone else who might feel the same things he felt towards the pilot. He wouldn’t allow any competition towards Cid’s affections… Cid was his.

He was pulled from his thoughts as a finger hooked down his shirtfront and tugged him closer. A tongue licked at the corner of his mouth. Vincent pulled back only slightly to eye him.

“Had some chocolate on yer mouth,” Cid smirked. “Couldn’t resist.”

Vincent’s expression softened in a somewhat amused tone. But as Cid was closing the gap between them, his face hardened and Vincent turned his head. His gaze set on an unwelcome voyeur. Cid followed his gaze, frowning, and saw what had caught Vincent’s attention.

Having received their focus, the man approached openly.

“Piss off,” Cid muttered darkly, still leant on the table from his disturbed about-to kiss.

Bertus held his hands up in a gesture of peace. He lowered them when Cid said nothing else. “…How is Shera?” Bertus asked carefully.

“What the fuck do you care?” Cid growled, fixing the man with a dangerous gaze.

The man sighed. “I hope she isn’t too hurt…” And with the air of admittance, he added, “I’m with the CSC...”

At this both Cid and Vincent narrowed their eyes at him, a look of shared distrust flashed over their features. Cid stood slowly from his seat, fists balled. He looked threatening. He said nothing – anyone with any sense would know he didn’t need words to get his message across.

However, Bertus had found them for a reason, and he refused to leave, despite fearing he could end up with bodily damage. He raised his hands again, using an open expression to convey his peace.

“I just want to explain a few things. I think I owe it to you…”

Cid sized him up and stared at him for a long second before lowering himself back into his chair. The atmosphere was heavy and charged.

Satisfied the pilot was willing to listen, the CSC man put his arms back down. “I used Shera. I only posed as her boyfriend. The CSC needed someone keeping tabs on Rocket Town. Specifically you.” He looked at Cid, who remained glaring. “I am sorry… but it was my job.”

Cid exchanged a dark glance with Vincent. “Why the hell would you need to keep tabs on me? You hooked up with Shera weeks ago.”

Bertus upturned his palms in a mild clueless gesture. “We didn’t know where Vincent Valentine was… but we knew his friends would.” He glanced at Vincent, whose red eyes stared at him unnervingly. He looked back at Cid. “We had people stationed in every town Avalanche resided at.”

Cid huffed angrily. “Why the fuck date Shera for that, then?”

“You know everyone in this town,” Bertus explained. “A newcomer like me wouldn’t be able to pass by unseen. So I hid under your nose, so to speak. I do feel guilty; I never meant to hurt Shera.”

“Like hell you care,” Cid grumbled.

The CSC agent cast his eyes down. “I do. She’s a lovely woman. But I don’t regret my actions. I was able to correspond Mr. Valentine’s whereabouts to the CSC, thanks to my ‘relationship’.” He didn’t seem pleased, but he didn’t really display any type of emotion, other than that of a man explaining himself matter-of-factly. “I’m sorry, Mr. Highwind. It was me who triggered you ‘illness’ a second time. I dropped an agent in your drink that reacted with the tea. It was simply meant to cause flu-like symptoms and eventual unconsciousness…” He smiled very slightly. “You were getting too close to finding the CSC. You should be proud of that, at least.”

Cid stood abruptly to his feet and advanced to punch him, anger flaring in his blue eyes. But Bertus backed off quickly, hands up again.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” The CSC agent called for his attention with his gestures. “I bring a message,” he said quickly, before he was knocked unconscious. Cid paused, glowering impatiently. “The CSC wants you to know that we may have failed to contain Chaos this time, but we will be keeping an eye on it… on you,” he added, looking over at Vincent, who was still seated. “That is all I’ve come to say…” He stared a second longer before he lowered his hands and offered a farewell nod, then backed up a step, turned, and walked away, glad he had come out unscathed.

Cid lowered his fist, ignoring the concerned mumble of a couple on the table nearby. He turned to Vincent, who looked up at him. Both their expressions softened, and Cid returned to his seat with a sigh.

“Wish that bastard hadn’t disturbed our afternoon out,” Cid said bitterly, grabbing his tea and draining the whole thing.

“It doesn’t matter,” Vincent said. He watched the pilot for a second, seeing that the encounter had ruffled his feathers more than it had Vincent’s. He reached his good hand over and placed it on top of Cid’s darker skinned one. “Don’t let it bother you. He’s gone... it’s just us.”

Cid lifted his gaze to find Vincent’s scarlet eyes. They were still unusually red. But it just made them more beautiful. He smiled and twisted his hand to interlace his fingers with Vincent’s, locking them together.

“Always amazes me how you never lose yer temper,” he chuckled.

“That’s because you have enough for the both of us.”

Cid laughed. “Yeah, guess I so.” All the negative feelings inside seemed to vanish at Vincent’s cool attitude towards their recent visitor. Cid tugged Vincent across the table, leaning in as he did, and kissed him. “Let’s get outta here. I wanna do things to you I can’t in public…”

Vincent let himself be pulled to his feet, watching Cid’s eyes interestedly. He followed behind, hand in hand as they left the seating area – Cid calling back to the manager as they went – and made their way back home. Once away from the café, Cid twirled back and guided Vincent’s face in for a stealing kiss as they still walked – in Cid’s case backwards. The twenty minute journey seemed half that as they teased each other playfully in the streets. They felt revitalized and giddy, letting themselves loose this one time. They didn’t know why they were suddenly acting this way. Perhaps they had unconsciously been waiting for the moment when they could fully be together, and that all the stored up love they had for each other was battling its way out in an unusual manner. Or it was the sugar from the muffins and hot chocolate. Maybe… maybe it was the feeling of relief, the feeling of closure over the recent ordeal. Whatever the cause, they felt good, so they had no desire to question their newfound energy.

Vincent found himself walking backwards as Cid cupped his hips and pushed him on, nipping his lip. The pilot grinned, slipped a hand around Vincent’s and ran the remaining few yards into his house, dragging his partner behind. He felt like a kid.

The door shut behind them as they fell into each other’s embrace, lips connected once again, hands roaming the other’s body.

Shera froze from her position at the sink and raised her eyebrows in amusement. Boys…

The couple made their way indirectly through the kitchen, bumping into the table and a chair. Cid’s fingers found the buttons of Vincent’s shirt as the gunman’s good hand fisted the back of the pilot’s top. They stumbled past Shera and up the stairs, realizing that they couldn’t actually stay in each other’s arms and climb at the same time. Their lips broke apart and they stared at each other for a second. An unvoiced challenge passed between them.

They spurred into action, leaping up the stairs, trying to beat the other to the room. Vincent’s long legs brought him ahead and he burst into Cid’s bedroom –

Only to be bombarded by Cid, who collided into him and drove them both onto the bed, laughing roguishly. Vincent rolled them, straddling Cid’s waist as the pilot wrenched off his unbuttoned shirt. He dragged Vincent down and switched their positions again, attacking his partner’s lips with a passion that had been dormant for two weeks. Vincent twisted his hips and threw Cid’s weight slightly, allowing him to successfully maneuver back onto the top. He planted both hands on either side of the pilot to enforce his position and bent his head low to claim Cid’s mouth. His hair cascaded over his shoulders, draping about the blond man’s face.

They parted for much needed breath and gazed at one another. Cid was elated to see a smile on Vincent’s parted lips. He’d never seen such an expression of wild abandon on the gunman before. And it was all for him. He slid his hands over Vincent’s waist, mapping his lover’s curves. They were so perfect.

“I think I deserve somethin’ for runnin’ all over the globe, lookin’ for yer,” Cid rumbled smoothly, massaging Vincent’s hips firmly.

The gunman undulated his pelvis slightly, grinding himself just a little over the pilot’s groin as those wicked hands sent pleasant sensations through him. “What would you have from me?” Vincent played along, smiling sensually in that subtle way of his. A smile that could quite literally melt all things living.

Smirking softly, Cid ran his hands down and up the pair of legs straddling him, dipping the juncture of his thumbs and forefingers around to Vincent’s inside thighs, caressing the pronounced tendons. Vincent inhaled and stretched above him slightly. Cid’s arousal increased.

“Your body,” he growled lustfully. “Your love. Your screams of ecstasy as I slide in and out of you…” He watched Vincent’s blood-red eyes glaze over and close against the powerful images Cid was giving him. They opened again to find those blue ones, and Cid ran one hand up to caress Vincent’s smooth neck. He drew his index finger down the gunman’s bottom lip gently. “Your kisses,” he added softer. “You.”

Vincent watched him gently for a second before leaning down and connecting their lips. Their passion was less wild than earlier, but no less meaningful. Vincent released the pilot’s mouth. “You shall have them all…”

They connected again, merging together in a frenzy of increasingly passionate kisses. Their clothing was thrown recklessly to the floor or hanging off the bed as they de-clothed one another, feeling lost to each other’s touch. Time was meaningless to them, nothing mattered. They rolled together on the bed, reveling in the feeling of skin against skin. They bore their soul to no one but each other – tonight was a consummation of their devotion. Their ordeal had ripped them apart, but despite this they had faired on, and they had been reunited.

Vincent groaned softly as Cid pinned him down into the ruffled duvet and mercilessly attacked the skin below his ear. Fingers played over his chest, teasing a nipple to attention as the other hand ran through his hair. Vincent slid his legs through the duvet, writing leisurely as his good hand traced encouraging paths along Cid’s firm back, dipping into the channel of muscle either side of his spine. He pushed his finger up and down it, enjoying the nuzzle and moan of approval he received.

“You realize after all this,” Cid began, his soft voice somewhat muffled against the skin of Vincent’s jaw. “That I’ll never let yer outta my sight… ever again…” He kissed him. “Never.”

Vincent’s response was a soft smile. He wrapped his arms about Cid’s chest and found his lips. He was happy. Never would he have imagined to find such a feeling after his release from the coffin. He had emerged a broken man. He’d had nothing, and he had been alone. He was thirty-years out of his time with a mind of anguish and lost love. His heart could not have been called broken, because it had been beyond shards… it was dust. Hojo had taken away everything from him. No one could have comprehended what he had undergone, and thus no one could have comforted him…

But someone did… in a way. Cid had seen something about him that he had thought stolen long ago. His dignity, his pride, his life and his dreams had been smashed…there had been nothing else to him except a cold, bitter need for revenge. He still, to this day, could not understand what it had been that Cid had seen in him. It had not been pity; the pilot was above such things. It couldn’t have just been his looks, because he had hidden them even after Cid’s advances. Had he possibly seen the sort of man he would have been? Was Cid such a good judgment in character? One day… Vincent would ask him. He would want to know why Cid had slowly coaxed him from his shell.

He fought his way to the present, determined not to let his countless thoughts interrupt his precious time with Cid. He rolled his hips, grating against the pilot’s, and felt victorious toward the following moan. Cid nipped his shoulder in response and pushed back, rubbing the evidence or their arousals together. They could have toyed with each other all night, but they were both eager to feel one another connected together in the most intimate way.

Vincent jerked at the feel of a finger penetrating him. The lubricant was cool, and he could feel it even more clearly inside him than normal. He wondered briefly when Cid had pulled out the bottle of lube from the nightstand, and realized he must have done so while Vincent was lost in his thoughts. He refused to blur out any more of the night, not even the smallest detail. He watched Cid’s face as the finger delved into him, breathing erotically against the motion of the digit. It felt so strange to enjoy such an intrusion… but he did. Even when Cid prolonged his preparation and teased him to the brink of climax. Three fingers worked inside him, brushing that magic spot that sent pleasure shooting from his belly over and over until he was moaning uncontrollably, writhing in rapture below the pilot.

Cid continued his onslaught, gaining pleasure from Vincent’s complete abandon. Finally, when he thought Vincent was almost at his end, he removed his fingers and soaked in the sight of his partner panting heavily. His face was glazed with pleasure as he groaned again in protest, needing the fingers to finish him off. Cid wouldn’t grant his release just yet. He grabbed Vincent’s body and rolled them, looking up at the gunman’s higher position. He brought the man’s face down to his lips, enjoying the almost frustrated arousal in his features. He reached around and took his erection in hand, rubbing it against Vincent’s buttocks, pushing it in-between the cleft as Vincent undulated his hips. His own erection bumped against Cid’s muscular stomach.

“Bend forward,” Cid whispered into Vincent’s ear.

He did so, unable to keep his body still as it sought the release he had been so abruptly denied. He panted warmly as he felt the tip of Cid’s length push against his opening. He could feel the pre-come drip into him and he shivered in pleasure.

The pilot slid into him effortlessly, aided by both the lubrication and the preparation. He pushed up his hips, driving his arousal deep into Vincent until he was seated full-hilt inside the gunman, throbbing in anticipation. He gently pushed Vincent’s backside down with his hips locked inside, to relax his pelvis on the bed without pulling out. The heat sent an intense wave of pleasure through his body, threatening to blow his mind away. He let out a deep breath he didn’t know he had been holding, and ran his hands along Vincent’s legs, finding his eyes as they adjusted. His heart swelled at the look he found. Vincent was perfect, bestowing him a sight only he would ever witness.

They began a pace. A slow, tender tempo that softly rocked their bodies. Vincent’s buttocks remained seated on Cid’s hips, but the motion grated the length inside him, sending a flutter of pleasures from its point. He looked down and watched Cid’s face, marveling at the clear expression etched into his handsome features. It spoke volumes to Vincent – it told him this was never about simple, carnal delights. It was so much more. It was an act of bonding, of sharing their bodies in the most intimate display of love. And it was about trust. Vincent’s trust in Cid – from a man who had suffered more hardships than a sane man could have endured, to a man who knew and held the utmost faith in his partner’s control – whether it was of the weapon on his left hand, or the demons lurking inside his body. Cid trusted Vincent where many a man or woman would not have. Neither of them could ever have expected to feel this deeply for another person, but now that they did, they vowed to protect each other. To keep each other.

Vincent braced his hands on Cid’s tanned chest, feeling the firm muscles under his right palm. He upped the pace, rocking back and forth with rhythmic vigor. They found their pleasure from each other. It was addicting, it felt better than it should have. They were sent to heaven and back via a mind-blowing rollercoaster, leaving them utterly enraptured.

Cid pushed his hips up to meet Vincent’s rocking. He had been satisfied to let his partner do all the work, but his body needed to contribute. His pelvis was compelled by natural instincts to move, and he couldn’t resist it. The weighty warmth of Vincent’s body on his, combined with the absolute pleasure riding about his length felt wonderful. He slid his hands and stroked the body before him, enjoying the motion of Vincent’s smooth hair swaying about his face. He wanted to feel more of him, so he did. He curled his hand behind Vincent’s head and brought his face down to connect their lips. Vincent’s bucking slowed but continued as he pressed back, planting his hands on the bed either side of Cid’s head for better balance. They indulged in a sensual, breathy kiss before watching each other, taking delight and pleasure from the other’s face.

Cid slid his arms around Vincent’s body and switched them, rolling their positions so he was now surging into his partner. A twinge of pleasure bolted through him at the roused gasp that escaped Vincent. The angle had changed, and so had the sensations. Cid watched in glazed awe as the gunman writhed in heavy passion beneath him, flexing and relaxing, unintentionally or intentionally driving Cid mad with desire. He growled in a quiet rumble of lust and slammed into Vincent to show him his approval. He knew his lover was graceful, but being lithe on the battlefield was completely different to the beautiful display he gave Cid in bed. It was nothing but erotic, in every arch, every rise and fall of his chest. He was a deceiving bastard; no one would ever believe Vincent could move so sexily.

They rode on. Their positions changed many times – neither wanted to stop, they both had so much to give, so much to expend. They danced until they were glistening with sweat and the room was humid with their heat. Sex clung to the air. They were lost in each other.

Cid moved them onto their sides, thrusting in from behind while the arm under Vincent’s neck braced around the man’s chest. The gunman pressed his shoulder blades into the bed and looked up through sex-heavy eyelids. He panted as they rocked together. Cid kissed him, and he could tell by the intermittent kisses and Vincent’s need for air that he was close. He spied the gauntlet clutching the bed in a death grip as pleasures seized his body, but still they continued. Cid pulled away from those reddened lips, panting himself, and slipped back on top between Vincent’s legs, almost dislodging himself from the man. He thrust back in, intend on bringing them the release they had been working towards for ages.

It didn’t take long. They climaxed at the same time, feeling overpowered with the force of nature bolting through their bodies. Their bowing forms met as Vincent cried deeply, gripping his legs so tight on either side of Cid. He spilled himself between them as he felt a new heat gush deep into him. He relished the feel of Cid’s seed, and through the mind-blowing feelings coursing through him, felt it travel forcefully up into him, much deeper than usual. He gasped as he came back from his high, and sought out Cid’s face. It was thrown back as he continued to pump lazily into Vincent, enticing out another ejaculation. Then he lowered his head, arms now shaking, and found Vincent’s eyes. Crimson orbs stared back and a long second passed between them, broken only by the sounds of their loud breaths.

“I love you…” Vincent whispered.

Cid stared, and slowly, a smile came over his face. It hadn’t been expected, but for that reason it made Vincent’s declaration all that more special. Cid lowered onto his elbows and pushed back down onto Vincent’s heated body, seeking his lips in a tender kiss. His length was still embedded inside the gunman, throbbing gently, spent, and he had no desire to remove it yet. He coaxed Vincent’s lethargic lips to meet his again and again. Their bodies were coated in a thin sheen of sweat, and Cid could feel the gunman’s breath breeze over his skin every time they parted for air. It was, without a doubt, the most perfect feeling in his entire lifetime; to be laid beside – inside – a beautiful lover, sharing his love. Cid nuzzled his stubble against the smooth skin of Vincent’s jaw, breathing in the musky scent of their sex. It was perfection, without a doubt.

“Never want this to end…” He mumbled into the man’s neck, placing a kiss on the moist skin. It was salty with sweat, and stray hairs clung to Vincent’s throat. He looked disheveled, and Cid felt enormously proud that he had done it.

Vincent grunted softly, his eyelids fought to stay open. He had used his energy, and now his body was falling into peaceful oblivion. Sub-consciously, his good hand slid up to twine around Cid’s, knowing his restricted energy had at last come to an end due to the Protomateria. He felt the pilot’s head shift, felt the man’s gaze watching his face, heard an echo of his own words…and then slipped into a heavy, comfortable sleep, aware of the fullness still inside him …

Cid stared at him for a second. Silence and stillness dominated the room as he watched. He played his fingers gently over his lover’s pale cheek, amazed how quickly Vincent’s energy had left him. Again.

“I’ll always watch out for you,” he said, his voice no louder than a whisper. “I promise I won’t let Chaos overpower you…” He slowly lowered his head and pressed a kiss to Vincent’s bandanna. “We’ll find a way…”

He nestled comfortably beside his partner, closed his tired blue eyes and joined Vincent in the restful darkness of sleep.

END