Woven Ties

Woven Ties

AN: Sorry I didn't update yesterday.

//


The following day found Cid sleeping later than he would usually. Admittedly, he still felt a little drained (but not from that), so he tightened his grip on both the duvet and Vincent and went back to sleep. Vincent, on the other hand, pried himself from the pilot’s grasp, accompanied with a disappointed whine, and got dressed. He was fastening the last of the buttons on the dark shirt when he heard noises from downstairs. A glance at Cid told him the pilot had dozed back to sleep. Leaving his gun and holster he silently made his way to the ground floor, following the sounds of familiar voices.

“Vincent,” Reeve greeted with a smile. He was seated at the kitchen table along with the entire Avalanche team. All were supplied with a drink. “Good morning. Or should I say afternoon?”

Vincent glanced at the wall clock. It really was almost noon, which surprised him. He rarely slept in that late. The blame was all Cid’s.

“Heeeey, Vince,” Yuffie said in a very strange, grinning tone. He eyed her as she looked him up and down. “They told me you were wearing Cid’s clothes, but I didn’t think he owned anything other than what he always wears.”

A few chuckles chorused around the group of friends as Shera made a fresh cup of coffee and handed it to Vincent. He remained stood but stepped closer to the team as they conversed.

“We got here a few minutes ago,” Tifa explained, seated next to Barret and Cloud on the circular table. “We came to see how Cid was doing.”

Since she – and they – were looking at him for an answer, he said, “Cid’s still sleeping.”

Deciding she was better at conveying news, Shera spoke up. “I think he’s still a little off. He was a bit sluggish yesterday,” she glanced at Vincent, “and you know how he likes to push himself.”

“Cid is strong,” Nanaki spoke up from his position beside Barret. Cait Sith was sat on top of his head. “He doesn’t like to admit he has weaknesses…like the rest of us.”

The team, including Shera, nodded to the fiery cat’s words, and after a second passed between them all Barret turned in his chair to look at Vincent. “You healed fine, Vampy?” He boomed in his deep voice.

Vincent gave his equivalent of an affirmation: The slightest nod and an extended blink of the eyes.

“What happened?” Shera asked curiously, placing her cup in the sink.

“Shit load’a’ monsters, that’s what,” Barret answered, sliding back into his previous position.

“No, it was that old man,” Tifa corrected him, leaning an elbow on the table. Nanaki and Yuffie looked at her, puzzled. Tifa proceeded to tell them exactly what happened that night in their quest to bring an antidote to Cid, an account that somehow spanned across fifteen minutes of time. Vincent felt the uncontrollable urge to simply leave.

“So that’s how yer came to wear my clothes,” came Cid’s voice from the staircase behind Vincent. He appeared, stretching away his stiff muscles, having either neglected or forgotten to put on a shirt. “Tea, Shera.” Cid eyed the nearest chair at the table, in which Cloud was seated. The swordsman got up. “Pity my shoes don’t fit ‘im.” Cid added as he took the seat, slapping Cloud’s shoulder in a gesture of thanks.

It was then that Yuffie took notice of Vincent’s shoes, leaning from her chair. She started laughing. “You look so funny.” Vincent narrowed his eyes at her and she ceased giggling, though her shoulders shook with barely contained laughter.

“What’re you lot doing here, anyway?” Cid asked as Shera passed him his drink and he took a soothing sip.

“We’ve come to visit you, as a matter of fact,” Reeve smiled.

“Apparently we’re all guilty for not coming to see you in the hospital,” Cloud said, a hand on the back of Cid’s chair. He smiled.

“No one could see me in the hospital,” Cid huffed. “Fuckin’ doctors.”

“What kind of tests did they have to do on you?” Yuffie leaned forward eagerly on the table.

Cid slid his eyes to the corners in a variation of a roll. “All kinds of fuckin’ tests. They still didn’t have a damn clue. Bunch of rejects.”

Tifa couldn’t help the giggle. “Cid, they’re the best doctors on the planet.”

“Well we’re all fucked then, aren’t we?” Cid slurped his tea. He lowered his mug and looked around at Vincent standing, Nanaki sitting on the floor and Cloud stood behind him. “Let’s move into the living room. Yer can all sit down then.”

A few minutes later found the Avalanche team settling themselves next to each other on the two couches in the room as Shera excused herself and returned to her engineering work in the back garden. Vincent remained standing until Cid jerked him onto the couch. To say he was sat on the cushions wasn’t true; he was almost sat on the captain’s lap.

“How’re yer men?” Cid asked Reeve as they spun their own conversations. Barret and Cloud were discussing Fenrir’s performance rate while Tifa and Yuffie were arguing about something that sounded suspiciously like pointy shoes. Nanaki politely held an ear to Cid’s conversation.

“They’ve all recovered fully,” Reeve answered. “They were just a bit shaken up by the ordeal. I heard their conditions became quite serious, but the doctors didn’t really mention much.” He paused. “I’ve given them some time off to recuperate.”

“I didn’t see ‘em while I was in there,” Cid said. “They kept us separate.”

“Yes, I expect even the infected can give germs to the infected,” Reeve said wisely. “It’s strange how the toxin lay dormant for two weeks and then became so fast acting.”

Cid nodded. “Yeah. I felt completely fine before I stepped foot in that hospital.”

Vincent watched him, an ear in the conversation despite attempts to filter out everything. Yes, it was true. Cid had shown absolutely no signs of any infection during their stay in Rocket town. For the entire two weeks he showed no sign of any infection.

“I am able to…sense…foreign substances within my body…”

He remembered explaining to Cid how he knew he wasn’t infected. During their intimate times throughout those weeks Cid had ejaculated inside him many times…and technically his semen would have carried some trace of the infection…Vincent would have detected the foreign substance inside himself, yet he hadn’t…

“My WRO soldiers said the same,” Reeve’s voice broke through Vincent’s thoughts. “They had been perfectly fine. Perhaps it was a more serious toxin than we thought; if it could lay dormant in the body and strike when you least expect it.” He crossed his legs. “It’s a good job it decided to strike while you were in the hospital.”

“For all I know their fucking experiments set the damn thing off,” Cid threw up an arm in a gesture to accompany his exclamation.

“But still,” Reeve smiled as he continued talking. His voice faded into Vincent’s sub-consciousness as a gnawing feeling started in the back of his brain…

//

Tomorrow came about fast. Well, technically it was early morning tomorrow, as Cid and Vincent had only just crawled into bed at 3.00am the next day. Avalanche had spent the majority of the day in Rocket Town, and Cid had enjoyed the company greatly. They had taken up residence in the local bar for most of the night, and the pilot had been slightly annoyed his friends wouldn’t let him get raving drunk, which is exactly what he wanted. So he had tried to get Vincent drunk in his stead. It hadn’t worked.

Vincent’s boots clinked unbelievably loud as he kicked them off. Cid turned and shushed him furiously, knowing Shera could be a light sleeper at times. The gunman ignored him and stood to undress, folding the clothes over the single chair in the pilot’s bedroom. He left on the boxers he was wearing, having borrowed another pair from a very persistent Cid. For some reason the blond found it enjoyable to know Vincent was wearing his underwear. As he was placing them next to his torn leather and cape he noticed the small item bag he had purchased in Junon. A ghost of a smile crossed his features as he pulled it out from under his tattered cape and glanced casually back over his shoulder. The captain was digging his feet into the bed sheets, his focus on them. Vincent made his way back to the bed, the parcel in hand. He wasn’t exactly sure how he should present it, so a simple advance should do.

As he came to a stop at his side of the bed, Cid’s keen blue eyes noticed it curiously. “What yer got there?” He asked as he pulled back the duvet for the gunman to slip under.

Vincent held the item for a second, glancing at it. It didn’t seem very characteristic of him to buy presents for people. Granted, it was Cid, his partner…but still. He held it out to Cid. “It’s for you,” he said simply, his deep voice impassive as always.

Cid took the gift and, with a glance at Vincent, pulled out a small model of a ship. No…it wasn’t just any ship, he recognized it almost immediately. It was his old baby, the Highwind. He raised his eyebrows in pleasant surprise. “Where’d yer find this?” He asked as he turned it over, marveling at all the fine, tiny details that made it seem like a miniature version of his actual aircraft.

“Junon.”

The pilot scoured the little model for a good few seconds more before a grin broke out on his rugged face. “Well I never thought they’d make a model of the Highwind. Damn Shinra must have sold the design sheets to a toy maker or something,” he shot a crafty glance at Vincent, grinning still. “Ah, I ain’t complaining,” he added, placing the little sculpture on his nightstand. He reached back to Vincent, grabbed his arms and pulled him down, a rogue touch to his smile. Vincent landed across his body, not two centimeters from the man’s face. “How about I show you a real thank you,” Cid said as he pressed in for a kiss.

“We would – wake Shera,” Vincent said, his sentence cut in two by Cid’s pushy mouth.

“I’ll just have to keep yer quiet somehow,” Cid answered, his eyes gleaming.

A little defiant by the suggestion that it was he who made all the noise, Vincent opened his mouth to tell Cid that they should retire for the night, but the pilot took advantage of his parted lips. The gunner found himself locked against Cid’s ravaging mouth as a hand snaked its way through his hair to the back of his head, holding him firmly in place. His mouth was invaded by the pilot’s eager tongue, seeking out Vincent’s to engage in their familiar, twisting dance. He felt Cid’s leg shift and a second later he stiffened as it pressed between his own legs, barely suppressing a moan. A bolt of pleasure surged through him, and as he continued to explore the blonde’s mouth that knee pressed persistently into him, kneading his groin until he had to shift away, his arousal painfully tight in his pants. Cid grinned, taking advantage of his momentum to roll him onto his back as he followed, pressing down on his body. He stared down at him, his grin fading slightly as he studied Vincent’s face in admiration, and for a few seconds their eyes locked in silence.

“You’re so beautiful…” Cid breathed. Vincent merely watched him back, lying dutifully beneath him. Cid lowered his head and kissed him slowly, savoring the sheer intimacy between them. When he pulled away he trailed his lips over the man’s neck, delving lower to blow a soft breath along Vincent’s sternum. A soft sigh of contentment met his ears and he moved lower, his fingers hooking into the waistband of the boxers he wore. He inched them down teasingly.

Vincent breathed deeply as Cid’s hands freed his erection, and he stared stubbornly up at the ceiling, preparing his body for the pleasure to come. His hand loosely gripped the duvet and his claw fisted to prevent it doing the same as a ghosting touch ran along his arousal. He fought the urge to take another, noisy breath, but his resolve crumbled as another jet of hot breath trailed up the underside of his penis. He hissed, pressing his teeth together.

“I’m gonna make you moan,” Cid whispered, contradictory to his earlier declaration. He pressed his lips to the head of Vincent’s erection and kissed it. Then licked. He smiled as Vincent’s hips gave an involuntary spasm, a bitten off grunt escaped him. Cid’s hand held the organ upright, thumbing the underside as his tongue darted out over the head and underneath, following the contours. He retracted it and gently grated his teeth over the sensitive flesh. Vincent outright jerked. Cid chuckled. He knew Vincent was very sensitive due to the heightened senses he had been cursed (or blessed) with. This amused Cid to no end. He glanced up from his low position and caught a look at his lover’s face. He was pleased to see those ruby eyes closed in barely contained pleasure, his head tilted back and his mouth parted. Another grin reached the pilot’s lips, and with his own arousal bottling up he took the erect member into his hot mouth with no warning.

“Nn – ” Vincent arched slightly, pushing his hips up to find more of that amazing heat. He panted as he rolled his head in the duvet, clenching the sheets tighter. Cid’s warmth slid further down before riding up slowly, leaving his wet erection exposed to the cool air. But not for long. It was enveloped in that delicious heat once more, sliding further down. Hands pushed his hips firmly into the mattress as he tried to buck up, and he grunted in frustration. Cid increased his ministrations, leaving him erotically dazed and unable to protest. The heat was building inside his navel, coiling with pressure. Cid’s hand wrapped around the base of his member and squeezed. Vincent cried out.

Due to his sensitivity, it didn’t take long for that molten pleasure to reach its bursting point. As Cid’s talented mouth worked his erection expertly, he could do nothing but moan and roll his head, tangling his hair and riding up the cover material encasing the duvet. Another squeeze sent him over the edge. His back arched from the mattress as a low, restrained groan issued from his throat. His muscles shook, his body shuddered and he released inside Cid’s hot mouth, who took it all and continued to apply pressure, milking him for all he had. Vincent fell back to the bed, panting softly, eyes closed as a wave of pleasant feelings sped through his veins.

Cid wiped his mouth, smiling smugly as he kissed the man’s spent member. Vincent’s eyes opened to meet his as he climbed back up to the gunner’s face.

“You’ll have… stomach ache,” Vincent breathed, watching the pilot.

“It was worth it,” Cid mumbled, pressing his attentions to Vincent’s neck. A stomachache was too trivial for him to worry about when Vincent’s pleasure was at his lips. Ingesting semen, or any fluid of the gunman’s, resulted in a long-lasting but tame pain. Whatever that bastard Hojo had done to him he obviously hadn’t had Vincent’s sex life in mind…

Vincent shifted out from under Cid, much to the disappointment of the blond, and when he slid off the bed Cid asked him where he was going, a frown etched onto his tanned features. “To fetch you some painkillers,” Vincent replied, looking down at him.

“Aw, babe, I’ll get it after,” Cid whined, flumping down completely on the bed, arms hanging over the edge. His own arousal pressed into the mattress beneath him, begging for attention. He mentally told it to wait patiently. From past experiences his stomachaches didn’t rear until well after they’d had sex, meaning he had a long time to get painkillers. Cid climbed off the bed and chased Vincent to the bathroom door, where he wrapped his arms around him.

“I’ll get it with you,” Cid said huskily into the man’s ear. He pressed his body into Vincent’s back, his arousal slid between the cleft of the man’s buttocks. He ‘hm’ed his pleasure and grinned as he pushed them both forward, awkwardly walking into the bathroom to the sink, over which sat the cabinet on the wall. They didn’t bother with a light; the bathroom was illuminated by the soft glow of the bedroom lamp, casting a moody atmosphere over them. The pilot reached over and opened the mirrored door, noticing briefly that Vincent’s reflection was looking away. He paused for a second, and then grabbed the little box of pills and closed the cabinet again, his grin gone, his blue eyes intense. “You never look at yerself in the mirror…”

Vincent blinked softly. He said nothing. He supposed it was only a matter of time before Cid realized, especially considering how close they had become and how long Vincent had lived at the Highwind house. Mirrors…he detested looking at himself. His own reflection reminded him of the pain and horror, of what Hojo had turned him into and what he must now live with. Cid called him beautiful, and some part of him wanted to believe that – some part of him did…but there was no denying that his current appearance was the result of a near-decade long torture. Tanned, healthy skin, short hair, burgundy eyes, all adorned in a crisp, black suit had been the last recollection of himself on that final, fateful morning. The next time he glimpsed his appearance in the Highwind glass it had been three decades later…he had been horrified. Not only had his appearance changed, but the air surrounding him. The haunting in his eyes and the dark demonic aura that seeped from his very body had frightened him. It wasn’t who he had been. It wasn’t even human anymore. It was demonic. That was all he saw staring back at him. He didn’t want it to be there.

Cid used his free hand to stroke the man’s chest soothingly. “One day, I want yer to look at yerself in the mirror…” Cid said lowly, his voice barely above a whisper. It traveled throughout Vincent’s body. “…When I’m makin’ love to yer. I want yer to see what we look like together.”

Vincent’s hand twitched, rising if only a fraction as though hesitant to move. But it lifted on its own accord to grasp Cid’s warm hand. His skin was both rough and smooth. He let it stay there for a second before letting go, unused to sharing such sentimental gestures. It felt like a barrier was breaking, and this time he didn’t resist. Vincent reached for the box of painkillers in Cid’s other hand and pulled out two of the small, white pills. He held them out.

“Take two,” he told him.

Cid took the pills from his fingers and stepped an inch back so he could turn Vincent around, away from the mirror. He smiled mischievously as he placed one of the tablets against the gunman’s lips. “Pass them to me,” he said suggestively. Vincent allowed him to slip the pills into his mouth and Cid took a private pleasure in the way they disappeared between those sensual lips, followed by the tip of his thumb. Vincent was watching him, his red eyes now glinting in the dim light. Cid closed the small gap and kissed him, feeling his mouth part to allow their tongues to meet. The ex-Turk twirled the pills around Cid’s tongue, pushing them into his mouth as the captain shifted them to the back of his throat and swallowed. Best way to take a pill. He ground his body softly against Vincent’s, pinning him against the sink as their kissed deepened. His softening erection began tingling anew.

They parted, gently breathing in each other’s air. Cid nipped Vincent’s lip, watching him lustfully through half-mast lids. His want was even stronger, and he could feel the slowly growing evidence of Vincent’s second arousal. He slid a hand through the man’s hair to cup the back of his neck and plucked his lips once more.

“Wanna know what my dream was?” He asked suddenly, shifting them towards the shower, pulling the light cord to illuminate them. Vincent’s crimson eyes darted to his. “You were a stranger lost in a thunderstorm and fell down a mudslide…” Cid began, grinning as he reached to turn on the shower taps. The pour fell down into the basin, warming up as it came out. “I found you, cold and wet…and brought you back to this late-century castle – yer’d have loved it.” He kissed Vincent’s neck as he tested the temperature, guiding his lover into the shower. Vincent listened and watched his face – deceptively passive in expression, but Cid could feel the excitement flowing through him. “It was lit up by hundreds of candles,” Cid breathed in his ear as the water cascaded down their bodies, soaking their hair and skin. “You looked so goddamn beautiful in candlelight,” he added in a hushed tone. “We were both wary of each other, but I led yer up the grand staircase, past these huge fucking stone pillars and gargoyle statues.” He kissed him, feeling the water slid between the seal of their lips. He pulled away, studying the growing desire forming on that pale face. “The lightening outside kept flashing through the castle, it was amazing…” Cid pressed Vincent against the tiled wall, running a hand over the slick body, along his graceful hips and up to his ribs. He was infatuated with the man’s body. “You were freezing, so I took you to the bathroom. And don’t laugh,” he added in a slight chuckle, “but we felt this raw lust between us, like them corny flicks – but this was so hot, babe…Yer let me touch and feel yer…” Vincent smiled at him in that way of his, and he couldn’t help but return the grin. “I got you a shower ready – damn, Vince…the shower was amazing. There were candles everywhere. It was a huge castle bathroom.” He was getting even harder just explaining his dream, despite giving it no justice from his crude, simple words. He could recall it so vividly, and he so wished he could take Vincent to the castle, to jump into his dream. He could feel his partner’s half-erection pressing eagerly against his own. “I pulled you close,” he tightened his embrace on the gunner’s warming body. “And I helped you peel off your wet clothes…really slowly. I kissed yer, and yer pushed back, so needy,” he grinned, running a hand along the back of Vincent’s thigh, marveling at the lean muscles hidden under the smooth skin. “Then I pulled yer to the shower. Yer wrapped your legs around me as I lifted yer up…and damn, Vince…I pushed so deep inside yer it felt like heaven.” He was nearly panting from his own visions, and he could feel Vincent breathing deeply, turned on more than a little by his account. He was pleased to feel the man’s arousal growing harder against his own. He raised his blue eyes under the pour of water to find Vincent’s red ones watching him intensely and despite the hot water a shiver ran through him. Those eyes could turn enemies to stone, but to him they did something much different.

“And…?” Vincent breathed in a deep, husky tone.

Cid smirked. “It was our first time in my dream.” He continued, hefting Vincent’s leg up to his waist. After a second Vincent caught on and braced himself against the wall as his other leg found leverage on the opposite side of Cid’s body. The pilot’s hands cupped his backside, supporting his weight. “But fuck, Vince…we sure knew what to do.” He carefully pressed Vincent against the wall as he reached blindly for the liquid soap. He distributed it over his fingers while his eyes remained locked on the gunman’s. “We made love until the bath had turned cold, and then we did it some more.” He pushed a slicked finger into Vincent with no warning and smirked by the jerk of the man’s body. He could see the lust in those crimson eyes, but there was still a hesitation hovering in them. Was he unsure about such a position? Or just anticipating the pleasures to come? Vincent’s body pressed into him and he snapped out of his thoughts and curled his finger. A soft grunt followed.

Cid was going to waste no time preparing him. He inserting another digit, and then another before Vincent could adjust to the first. The ex-Turk was no woman; he would not appreciate being handled so delicately, so Cid made sure he never did. When he was ready and they were both aching painfully, Cid coated his erection and positioned himself at Vincent’s entrance. They took a second to watch each other, reveling in the feelings written over their faces, before Cid pushed up his hips, never letting up until he was completely buried inside his partner. The heat was incredible, the hot water had nothing on Vincent’s body. He felt like he was penetrating the man’s very soul. Cid’s knees gave a momentarily shake, feeling weak from the sudden pleasure coursing through him. But he regained his strength. A hand rose to Vincent’s heavy, wet hair, cupping his head as he pressed a breathless kiss to those lips. He was in heaven.

The water cascaded down them as steam hovered around them in the shower cubical. Vincent tightened his legs around the pilot’s body, noticing how dark the man’s skin was under the torrent of hot water. His blond hair was matted to his head, yet somehow it remained spiky. Vincent shifted his hips, feeling the pain of penetration disappearing. He clenched his muscles and smiled at the pleasurable groan that escaped the pilot.

“Oooh, damn, Vince…” Cid moaned into his shoulder, savoring the feeling of the tightness around his member. He pulled back an inch, allowing enough room to retract his hips and slide his erection out. He pushed back in, humming his delight. From there they started a slow pace, adjusting to the rhythm of their actions and the balancing of their weight. It was incredible; every time with Vincent was like a dream. Cid’s grip on the man’s perfect buttocks tightened almost painfully, as though afraid if he loosened his grip the whole scene would disappear and he’d wake up to find it had actually been a dream.

Vincent gave a soft groan, undulating his hips to meet the thrusts. His mind was completely bombarded with images from Cid’s erotic dream, and as he closed his eyes they flashed vividly behind his lids, fueling his building release. He could picture the candles and the dark interior so clearly, and an involuntary sigh fell from his lips. He couldn’t recall the last time he had felt stronger feelings – or indeed any feelings – since becoming Cid’s lover. He felt a powerful magnetic pull to the captain, as though something inside him was begging to be as close as possible.

“Damn, Vince…” Cid moaned, pressing his face into the man’s chest. Water poured down his head, back-brushing his hair. Droplet-heavy spikes merged to his forehead as they bobbed with every thrust. He could feel the pounding of Vincent’s heartbeat, the very evidence that his partner was reacting to him; that he was alive, despite his claim not to be. Cid pushed hard and deep, pausing his tempo to allow Vincent to clench his muscles. Which he did. And it felt wonderful. “Aaah…” Cid pumped harder, feeling his end approaching. He was vaguely aware of Vincent’s writhing body as the sensations crept higher inside his navel, and he was quite surprised when the man’s lithe form snapped taut, tightening dangerously around him as Vincent’s climax struck him prematurely. Even with the hot water pouring down on them Cid could feel the heat of Vincent’s essence between them, sliding down their bodies to mingle with the water. In his thoughts the blond hadn’t realized he was striking Vincent so effectively it had brought on his release sooner than his own. The pilot smiled as he continued to push up into Vincent’s relaxing body, taking extra delight from the look of completion of the man’s beautiful, wet face. “Got yer good, huh?” He asked softly, nipping the skin before him as he began reaching his own end.

The gunman lowered his heavy eyes down to watch Cid’s face, riding out his after-climatic sensations on the pilot’s continued thrusting. He pressed his head back against the tiled wall as he clenched his inner muscles, helping his partner find his end.


Seconds later Cid drove himself up inside Vincent and stilled, shuddering as he released his load into the gunman’s body. He could feel those muscles milking him as he came, and a long groan escaped him. He panted, head hanging in the momentary paralyzing afterglow, listening to the sounds of the water fall around them. He felt completed. Cid raised his head and found Vincent’s sated crimson eyes looking down at him. It was the gunman who initiated the kiss, lowering his head to press their wet lips together in the perfect end to an incredible sex-session.

“I love you so goddamn much,” Cid whispered, feeling rivets of water stream down his face. A moment passed between them, satisfyingly silent. Cid expected no returned vocalized expression, but he knew without a doubt it was mutual. Vincent spoke better with looks than words, and he gave Cid the response he wanted.

He departed from Vincent’s body slowly before setting him down on his own feet. They shared a passionate kiss as they let their energy return. Cid turned off the shower, hand slipping on the wet faucets. Toweling themselves dry, they managed to make it back to bed barely five minutes later, feeling well and truly tired from both the night out and the love making. It was nearly 4.00am by the time they settled under the duvet, hair still damp.

“I ain’t getting up early tomorrow…” Cid said quietly, stifling back a yawn. His tired eyes blinked slowly. He dug an arm under Vincent, whose one good one he was already laying on, and rested the other over Vincent’s chest. He enjoyed the reassuring feel of the man’s steady rise and fall as he breathed. He closed his eyes. “I’m gonna invest in a shit load of candles, tomorrow…” He trailed off.

Vincent smiled. Within a few seconds they were asleep; exhausted but extremely content.

//

Cid awoke the following day at around noontime again. His hair was dry and he felt refreshed enough to open his eyes. He was surprised to find Vincent still slumbering next to him. Usually the man was awake long before him. Cid slowly retrieved his arm from under the gunman and gently lifted himself from Vincent’s good one. The action woke him up.

“Hey,” Cid greeted, giving a stretch as those red eyes turned towards him. “It’s nearly noon.”

Vincent blinked the sleep from his eyes and sat up as Cid rolled off the bed. The mattress bounced as he did. The sun was shining through the curtains, confirming the time of day by the angle of the light entering the room. Vincent followed Cid and climbed off the bed. He remembered he was still naked when a very meaningful growl broke their silence. Cid wriggled his eyes brows as he disappeared into the bathroom, a grin on his face.

Minutes later found them dressed, washed and ready to eat. They left the room and made their way into the kitchen, where they both stopped, eyes on the newcomer.

Shera and the mystery man rose from their seats at the kitchen table, having obviously been talking to each other quite…intimately.

“Captain,” Shera said. Her voice carried a slight strain as she cleared her throat behind a loose fist. “This is Bertus Ray.” She paused, glancing at the pilot. Cid could say there was a nervous touch in her expression. “Bert, this is the Captain, Cid Highwind.”

The man, Bertus Ray, stepped forward with a hand out graciously, a friendly smile on his face. “Mr. Highwind, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you. Shera’s told me a lot about you,” he glanced at the woman as he spoke. “But I must admit, I knew your name long before I met Shera. I’m an admirer of Avalanche.”

Cid neither took the hand nor acknowledged its presence. Instead, he pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and lit one, taking his time about it, too. He studied the man for a second before finally clasping hands with a resounding smack and giving it a good, firm shake.

“Bertus, eh?” Cid said. “You recently moved to Rocket Town, then?”

The man nodded. “Yes. I’m originally from Junon. Quite a different location change, but a welcome one.” His friendly eyes swapped from the captain to Vincent, and something flickered behind those gray eyes that the gunman couldn’t decipher. It was gone as quickly as it came. “You must be Vincent Valentine.” He held out his hand politely, but Vincent didn’t take it, and Bertus knew he wasn’t going to shake no matter how long he held it there. He lowered his hand. “Your eyes are quite stunning,” he said carefully.

Vincent blinked, feeling caution bells jingling for some unknown reason. He didn’t like this man’s gaze. And no stranger had ever dared comment on his eyes face to face. It must be the loss of the cape that encouraged this bravery.

“So…you two’re going out?” Cid drew back his attention purposely. “I’m glad yer finally found someone, Shera,” he said as he moved past the man to the cupboards, where he started pulling out breakfast material.

The scientist engineer smiled, a relieved expression on her face. “I am, too, Captain.” She turned her brown eyes on her boyfriend. “Bertus, are you ready?”

“Where yer off to?” Cid asked, his cigarette perched between his lips as he placed a frying pan on the hob.

“Bertus and I are spending the day out,” Shera explained bashfully. Said man returned to her side and took her hand. “I’ll see you later, Captain. And Vincent – make sure he rests.”

“It was an honor meeting you both,” Bertus waved casually as he walked to the door. They were gone a second later, leaving Cid and Vincent to glance at one another.

“How come I don’t get to hold your hand?” Cid asked behind a false pretense of seriousness, hands on hips.

Vincent stared.

A few minutes later Cid had pulled out eggs, butter, cheese, bread and all manner of foods that he claimed he was going to turn into a glorious breakfast. Vincent promptly took the spatula from his hand and told him to sit down.

“I ain’t sick, goddamnit,” Cid yelled, refusing to move. He plucked his cigarette from his lips and crushed its remaining ashes into the ashtray he had pulled out from the draw. “I can make a fuckin’ breakfast.”

“It’s the breakfast I’m concerned about,” Vincent teased. His straight face often brought on doubt as to whether or not he was serious. Fortunately, the only expert in reading ‘Vincent’ was in the room.

“Smartass,” Cid smirked. “You weren’t thinkin’ of making it, were yer? No offense, Vince, but yer ain’t got a clue.” It was true. Before Vincent could come back with a response Cid swiftly grabbed the wrist holding the spatula and gracefully backed his partner against the countertop. “Why don’t we make it together?” He smirked, sliding his hand up the wrist to slip the utensil from Vincent’s right hand. He pressed a kiss against Vincent’s lips for his docile behavior. “I’ll only be doin’ half the effort,” he bargained, appealing to Vincent’s concern. (Concern was much too strong a meaning for Vincent’s case of mock teasing). The gunman’s undecided silence was Cid’s cue to push on. He maneuvered Vincent to the bread and butter. “You get started on these. I’ll do the frying.”

Vincent eyed him, uncertain whether he should comply or not. He didn’t actually want to bar Cid from doing anything, but the case here was not Cid’s performance anymore. It was his. Buttering bread; a simple task, really. But when your buttering skills were thirty years rusty, it was very noticeable.

“Vince…yer want me to do that?”

Pausing from his bread massacre, Vincent narrowed his eyes and sighed. “…I think perhaps you should.”

Grinning to himself, Cid set the hob setting down low and left the frying eggs to quiver as he stepped up behind Vincent. He pressed into him as his hand cupped the back of Vincent’s. “Yer got too much strength, Vince. Yer gotta get used to simple things again.” He guided Vincent’s hand to a good slice of bread and twisted his wrist to glide the butter along the surface softy. He watched from over Vincent’s shoulder as he pushed aside the successful attempt and brought out another, repeating the action. Vincent watched attentively, feeling the curve of his wrist and comparing it to the carve of his previous efforts. “We need four,” Cid said into his ear, much closer than was actually necessary. “Feel confident enough to do the other two?”

Vincent nodded. He could master any blade…after a reasonable practice. As Cid moved away with an endearing smile on his face the gunman brought the third slice to his range and mimicked the curve of Cid’s action. The butter spread onto the bread smoothly, and he felt satisfied. He finished the other one quickly, only slightly annoyed he had seared the crust with his claw. He set them onto a plate Cid had laid out and turned to await further instructions, watching Cid masterfully handle the frying pan.

“Tea?” Cid suggested.

Very soon both the drinks and the food were dished up and brought to the table. It was a rather large breakfast, but as Cid had stated it was nice to change routine. They ate quickly, replenishing the energy they had still yet to fully recharge from last night. As he was digging into his bacon, Cid found his thoughts wandering to the crystal hunt they’d had to put aside, and wondered if Vincent had been thinking about them while he had been on his own at Junon. In fact, he just simply wondered what Vincent had been doing during that time. When he asked he was given a very boring answer:

“Not much,” Vincent replied, recalling the nightmare he had experienced. It had been then first one in a long time, and he suspected it had something to do with Cid’s absence.

“Nothing? All that time and yer didn’t do anything?” Cid said, skeptically. His expression twisted into sly amusement. “Nothin’ at all? No doing of anythin’?”

Catching on to Cid’s dirty mind, Vincent scowled. “No, I did not.”

Cid, having finished his breakfast, clanged his cutlery onto his plate and propped his elbows on the table. “I’ll have to teach yer what to do in yer spare time,” he said with a grin.

“…”

//