All of Us Monsters

Disclaimer:  I don't own SquareEnix or any of their Squaresoft
characters.  I don't own Advent Children, or else I would be rich.  I
don't own Cloud, Fenrir (his bike), Vincent, or any of Cloud's many many many
swords.

Author's Notes:  Tons of spoilers.  For those of you who
have seen the movie, you might understand where this could be coming from. 
I've recieved lots of good words for this on the Livejournal Community acfiction.

Chapter 8

From a distance, the bistro looked like a dollhouse sitting on top of at
sunset. The water was so clear and still that the stars reflected there seemed
to instill in me a sense of euphoria, a sense of disorientation as though I were
flying upside down or right-side up in a sea of stars, and the only point of
focus was the orange-yellow torch of the sun as it made its daily descent.

Cloud was waiting for me at the Honey Bee Inn. I was anticipating the sight of
him as the car I had borrowed rounded the last bend in a long road that took a
series of winding turns that never quite left the side of the lake. The glowing
little window above the radio dial read the time as 6:30 at night.

I pulled the car into a parking spot on the white gravel and climbed out from
the leather interior. My ink-black tresses were tied back into a neat pile at
the back of my neck, cleaned and scented, bangs generously framing my angular
face.

I wore the cloak, which conveniently covered my shoulder and clawed arm if I so
pleased, or I could have let the cloth tumble behind my shoulder. The suit was
comfortable and black as well, doing justice to every curve of my body that
mattered without seeming inappropriately vain. It opened at the collar slightly,
revealing the milky, unnatural whiteness of my throat. When I had put it on, I
was mildly alarmed at how well it fit me. Cloud undoubtedly had taken liberties
to examine me while I slept, or else he was very exceptional with clothing.

I straightened as I shut the door of the car, keys jangling from my claws. A
self-conscious shiver went up and down my spine as I spied a shock of blonde
hair from the darkness. Then the blonde emerged itself with the rest of Cloud
Strife attached to it.

The warrior cut an intriguing, oddly sophisticated picture in his black evening
attire. He had a crisp white linen shirt underneath and a dark red, almost
maroon tie. The suit held to his shoulders comfortably and while some, lesser
built men used moderate padding, I could see the muscles by memorization beneath
it all and in the way he carried himself. His hair was not as spikey but it was
marginally neater as though he had made a concentrated effort not to look as
though a baby chocobo had decided to roost on his head.

He still looked gorgeous even if he was for all the world mildly uncomfortable.


I stepped forward. His eyes found me after I had spotted him, and a visible
string of tension was cut away from his features. He was visibly pleased. He
reached into his pocket and lifted his hand with something in it.

He pinned a pleasantly scented velvet rose to my shirt collar, adjusted it,
before he rested his hands against my arms for a millisecond, taking in my
appearance with half-side, eager eyes that seemed to say how much he had missed
me.

"I'm glad you came," he said quietly. His fingers twitched on my arms, as though
he wanted to take hold of them, pull me close. I felt a shiver of... happiness,
fear, at what I felt for him.

Am I doing the right thing?

"So am I," I answered quietly.

He smiled, and held up his ticket.

"You got yours, right?"

I slipped the little paper from my pocket.

Together, nearly shoulder-to-shoulder, we waited for seven-o'-clock and watched
the lake.

At seven sharp we were ushered inside to our table by a clean young man dressed
in a sharp, maroon suit across a Greek floral design, all colors upon the first
floor primarily plum, burgandy and muted gold. I could almost smell the richness
of the denizens, women who wore flowing dressing gowns and men in suits as
expensive, if not more, than our own. The ceiling was vaulted high above, where
a massive chandalier glistened and sparkled unnaturally with the glow of materia
gems.  It was bordering on gaudy, but it was a tasteful neatness that said
class, not showy wealth.

I think my mouth dropped open. Cloud guided me after our chauffeur to a glass
elevator. We did not hesitate as we stepped inside, and we were elevated to the
third tier.

The journey upwards was nothing short of dizzying. Thick panes of glass kept us
as safe as possible, but I could see the lake as we rose higher and higher,
closer to that sparkling chandalier of materia.

There was nothing between my eyes and the beautiful stars below in the water,
stars that seemed to have sunk to the bottom that begged to be retrieved.

Cloud seemed taken with the stars as well. I reached out with my soft, human
hand, and found his. Our fingers trembled; fear, apprehension, elation. What was
this we were both feeling at the same time?

Was it because it was real? Because it was happening, and we were not just alone
but surrounded by people who probably knew us, knew our names and our faces and
only our good deeds.  They wouldn't know our sins, that this odd
extravagant consummation of this forbidden relationship was condemned by the
stars.

Selfishly, I didn't care. Cloud was content. I could sense his happiness. When
we finally reached the third tier, I stepped into the relatively empty dining
area whose carpet was much the same as the last. Our muted footsteps traveled to
the end of the room near the windows, opening for us a panorama of the universe
and its orchestrated dramas. There was sizable, round table covered in burgandy
cloth with dark blue napkins folded triangularly, silverwear resting in their
places beside empty fluted wine glasses.

"You are for the four-course meal, correct?"

Cloud nodded. When the man went away, he stepped around me. I felt his arm press
against my back before I noticed him pull the chair from beneath the table for
me. For several seconds were were very close;  Cloud took his time, and I
heard him breath in deeply, just as I was, and our cologne mixed, making us
freeze for a split second, two of us inching closer as if we could melt one into
the other and never split apart.

Trembling, I said my thank you softly.

Afterwards, he sat down next to me. His eyes found mine after a long moment of
silence.

"I hope this place is alright."  He was only talking for the sake of having
something to say.

"Thank you for bringing me here."

"I'm glad you came. Didn't think you would, but I'm glad all the same."

Cloud occupied his eyes for a second to examine the glasses. He lifted one
delicately between his two fingers, rolled it quietly. Behind him was the night
sky... I realized suddenly how detailed and intricate he had made this date. How
much money had all of this cost him, I wondered? He must have dug deep into his
gil account to entertain me in such a way.

"Why, I would not have it any other way," I said pleasantly. "I wasn't so sure,
from the name..."

"I thought it'd catch your eye," Cloud replied with a smirk. "Only thing is, I
don't want to hear any innuendos about my past!"

"No smarmy euphemisms?" I feigned disappointment. "Where's the fun in that?
After all, it's not like we haven't done worse."

"H-Hey!" Cloud bristled with embarassment. "I could think of worse things. But I
don't want to in mixed company." He motioned to the stars, smirking as he found
my eyes again.

We looked at each other. Then the most peculiar thing happened:  we both
started laughing at the same time for no reason at all, or maybe the thought of
Cloud and that 'large man' from the other Honey Bee Inn had tickled a particular
funny bone, harkening to days when nobody worried about dying from a disease,
but by dying in battle, like proper warriors do.

* * * * *

The meal went splendidly. Cloud ate, and ate, until he was stuffed to bursting
at the seams, determined that he would try everything at least once. The wine
gave everything a warm glow, bringing me to a state of being that allowed me to
take my time and enjoy each precious second with sterility, cleansed of any
worries. I ate only a few things, but still I was rather pleasantly filled. Our
plates were taken away, and I enjoyed the wine with Cloud as we sat and watched
the stars. The chandalier glowed softly, and I had noticed that the lights from
downstairs had dimmed. Music drifted to my ears, and I realized there must have
been live instruments downstairs.  But I was content to listen to them with
Cloud rather than watch.

Cloud had closed his eyes to sit pensively, his legs stretched out boyishly
under the table as if he couldn't stand to be proper anymore. I could
sympathize; I was prone to relax when I had drank a little. I watched the smooth
line of his jaw as it flexed when he opened his mouth to take another sip from
the glass of some hard liquior. How his throat worked when he swallowed. These
tiny things. Slowly, I realized I wanted to keep seeing these small things, the
little things he did, forever.

Lazily he turned his eyes to me. A gentle smile developed on his angelic face,
his soft lips curving upward.  He said, "You want to go to bed now? It's
getting late... I think I'm going to fall out of my chair if I try to stand up."

I half-chuckled at him, but it came out sounding like a 'hunh', while I shook my
head from side to side in teasing exasperation. With stiff limbs, I pushed back
my chair and stood up, reaching my arm out to him. He took it, and stood up
carefully, leaning on my arm heavily, and his head pressed perfectly against my
shoulder. There we stood half-holding one another, until Cloud shifted and
uttered a little moaning sigh.

"I'm beat."

"Where exactly are we supposed to go?"

"Downstairs again. Try not to let me fall over."  He laughed. Together, we
half-staggered, half weaved our way across the floor and around other tables
until we reached the elevator.

Our conversation went something like this as we went down:

"Please do keep your hands to yourself."

"I can't help it! Why are you so pretty?"

"You're drunker than I am. What does that say about what I look like in
reality?"

"Huh?"

"Exactly."

"You're pretty no matter what, Vincent, trust me!" He giggled, and pawed my
sleeve. "Abso-fucking-lutely gorgeous."

I tilted my head at him as the elevator stopped and the doors set us free.
"Thank you."

He mumbled into my sleeve. I found the man in the maroon suit again. He directed
us straight away to the hotel suite we had been assigned. We entered the room,
and as soon as the door closed, we were drowned in absolute silence.

I more or less carried the half-conscious warrior to the white-sheeted bed with
the forest green coverlet. With a little effort I removed his jacket. His head
lolled slightly, straight and awake long enough to allow me to undress him
properly and set him to bed. He arched his back a little, bare chest prickling
from the chill, skin flushed with drink, before he settled with his arms up
behind his head.  There was a bit of luggage that undoubtedly belonged to
Cloud and myself.

I had no more room in my head to think about difficult things, but I was
undoubtedly the happiest at that moment than I had in a long time. Things seemed
to make more sense under the influence. But then that was the whole point. I
wanted to see clearly, beyond my shattered sense of self-pity, and see that what
I had (with that blonde-haired sot who passed out on the bed over there and
looked painfully adorable doing so) was completely and utterly real. Nothing
could have convinced me otherwise.

Clothing stripped away. I was tired enough not to care as I let the items fall
into a chair left of the bathroom door. My head was still buzzing happily by the time I
slid under the warm, thick coverlet, the weight of it solid and comforting. 
Cloud's body next to mine, warm and asleep and pleasantly drunk, generated
enough heat to chase off the fit of shivers that might plague me.