Popped Seams

 

   It began slowly, and we never speak of it.  After Lucrecia,
I had no desio beo be vocal about any passion or affection I had for anyone,
let alone another man. Yet, somehow, he seemed to know.  I suppose that
is what makes him The Captain; his attitude, his frankness, the bright spark
of life inside him that I both admire and covet. It allows him a certain
instinctual insight.

    That night at the Gold Saucer, we shared a room. At the
time, my feelings for Cid were vague, even to myself, although I knew for
certain that something in me was attracted to something in him. The sharing
of a room with someone (particularly with a sub-human thing like myself)
is a mark of trust, and I suppose I felt honored by that. I ushered him upstairs,
fully expecting to guard his sleep.

      Though he'd been dozing in the lobby, when
we came into the actual room he quickly found himself sitting in bed, stripped
down to boxers and undershirt, quietly holding a dying cigarette in his lips. 
I myself was standing at the window, watching the gondola pass over the hotel.


    There are many people who whisper about me as I pass,
muttering about how forebodingly beautiful I am, how striking my blood-red
eyes are. Poetic, I've heard more than once. Not many people give Cid's eyes
as much credit as they deserve, if mine are any indication.  They are
blue, the shade of blue the sky becomes shortly before the sun reaches its
apex. They are sharp and cold as knives, and he stared at me that night;
an insistent, constant feeling of his eyes being on me, watching.

    "What?" I asked softly, without turning to face him. I'm
not sure I could have.

    "Hm?"

    "What do you want, Cid? You're staring."

    There was a short moment of silence, as if he were considering
something.  Then, simply, "Yeah. I am."

    I turned to him then; he was sitting on the bed, with
the dingy black sheets pooled around his knees, face illuminated only by
the cooling fire of his cigarette, eyes closed.  "What do you want?"
I asked again.

    He shrugged and took a drag. The shadows shrank back from
the sudden, brief brightness.  "Just to see you, I guess," he said mildly.


    The words were bait to which I knew better than to rise,
and I said nothing, let it hang in the air like a stench.  I waited
for Cid to make a joke, some sort of teasing gesture, anything that would
snap the tension I could feel pulling between us. It never came; the steady
rhythm of his breath and the wisps of blue smoke drifting in the room only
danced across it; his balance on it was perfect.   

    To his credit he never moved his eyes from mine, save
to blink and to let them drift closed when he drew another breath through
the cigarette.

    I looked away first.  I watched the window again,
the balloons and noises below floating up through the canned sound effects
and cheap music.  "Shouldn't you be tired?  You all but passed
out downstairs."

    "No," he said. "Just dozed off from listening to the bunch
of them-" he nodded toward the lobby, "-run their mouths all night. What
about you? Ain't you tired?"

    "I've had enough sleep for one lifetime."

    "Makes sense."

    And the tensiadedaded; present, but not so tangible anymore.
He seemed to let it drop, and although I knew I shouldn't dwell on it, I
also knew that he hadn't forgotten either.  In a strange, comfortable
way, the silence returned, and part of me welcomed its gentle presence. Another
part railed against it, the part of my mind that demanded I confront Hojo
had not learned its lesson, and even as I watched the electric blue bursts
of fireworks outside it screamed for me to confront Cidwellwell.

    I ignored it.

            

    That was the first of many such occasions. Different settings,
different hotels, different circumstances.  But it always seemed to
boil down to the two of us sharing a room; those blue eyes, watching me,
in total silence. Two people can learn many things from each other without
speaking. For instance, Cid adds cinammon to his tea when he hasn't been
sleeping well, and is skilled in basic sewing.  I've never been sure
if he knows that I've noticed these things, but I suppose it's of little
consequence.

    It seemed we didn't need words; I would watch the sky,
he would smoke and fix his spears, or stitch up popped seams on his sleeves
(It happened often; I suppose with all the fighting and exercise he'd been
getting his body was reacting accordingly. Against my better judgment I also
noticed the thighs of his jeans getting tighter by the day, though I've never
mentioned that, either).

    It was during one of these nights that he came up to me
and, without asking permission or even my opinion, he reached up and pulled
off my bandanna.  

    I caught his wrist reflexively in my claw, and he looked
up at me, fire-tipped cigarette in his teeth.  "What are you doing,
Cid?"

    "Fixin' yer 'do-rag."   He held it up, indicating
three long slices down the strip of cloth. "I'm tired of lookin' at it."


    "You could have asked."

    "You would've said no."  

    "Touché."

    And he went to work, putting careful, tiny stitches in
my bandanna, until it was perfectly whole again.  But he didn't hand
it back, just hung it up on the coatrack on the door, next to his jacket
and goggles.

    "I could do your cape, if you wanted," he said.

    It was legitimate enough; my cloak, the only article of
clothing I'd had much affection for during my youth, had not seen suitable
repair in ages, and so I removed it and my shoulderplates without protest.

    "Much better," he said, and sat down to sew up the loose
stitching.

    Had I been in the right state of mind, I likely would
have ignored him, b unf unfortunately did not take the time to think before
I spoke. "You seem to have come up with a clever scheme of undressing me,
Captain."

    I dared to slant a glance at him when I heard the weight
of the bed shift, and he was looking at me again, blue eyes shining in the
fiery glow of his cigarette, smoke sliding from his quirked lips.  "Looks
that way, doesn't it?" he said.

    "It does."

    I don't know what made me say that, nor do I quite understand
what I meant by it.  But Cid didn't reply to me; he only smiled.





    Weeks passed.  The battles wore on, Cloud fell ill,
and Cid was dropped like lead into the position of leader. In a way I couldn't
fault the others for choosing Cid for the role; he was a leader in his own
town, a mayor, and visionary, and an idealist with just enopragpragmatism
to be useful.

    Unfortunately, no one had time to consider the toll this
took on Cid, and I, being the one who guards his sleep, was the only one
to see the reprecussions of the group's decision.

    It came to fruition the night after we rescued the Huge
Materia at Corel. We stayed at the Gold Saucer again, having decided that
an afternoon of gambling, gaming, and tacky decorum would do wonders for
all our nerves. The others played in the video arcade, watched Chocobo races,
rode the roller-coaster, but Cid almost immediately retired to the room that
he and I were once again sharing.  I gave most of my Gold Points to
Yuffie, and I spent a few handfuls of Gil in the food court buying a quick
dinner for Cid and myself; some heinous interpretation of chicken that I
suspected had been a chocobo who lost his race.       


    When I returned to the room, I knocked, as it is difficult
to balance a tray on a claw while one uses one's functional hand to open
the door.  But no one answered.  It is often my nature to assume
the worst, and so I did not hesitate to set the tray on the questionably-stained
floor and proceed to dig my claws into the doorframe and pry it open.

    Cid was sitting on the bed, stitching away at his scarf
like he was mad.  An ashtray full of cigarette butts sat next to him,
ashes spilling over the side and onto the coverlet.  The pack sitting
in his goggles was nearly empty, and I knew it had been full when we checked
into the hotel; only three more say patiently awaiting their demise.

    His eyes were red, his fingers trembled and his wholody ody looked stiff and tense; a strange bowstring, growing tighter and tighter
every time the arrow flies.

    Nearly to the point of snapping, I thought.

    "Cid?"

    He jumped a mile, turned to me. "What?"  His eyes,
so bright and clear and hopeful, were laced with redness and there were dark
circles under them.

    I came and sat next to him, laid a hand over his. 
His voice came out so fragile, so soft, it was almost childlike.

    "I'm tired, Vincent."

    "Sleep, then," I said. "I'll see that you're not disturbed.."

    "No!" he stood up, flinging cigarette ashes to the floor,
his scarf half-sewn to his glove.  "I can't just fuckin' sleep!" 
He began to pace the room like a caged tiger, running his hands through his
nearly-white hair as if he'd like to tear it out. "The huge Materia.. I coulda
been responsible for destroying Corel... and just..everything, just one thing
after another...."

    I retraced our steps over the past few days. Between Sephiroth,
and Aeris, and the Black Materia, and Nibelheim- God, Nibelheim- our constantly
being dogged by Shinra, Cloud's falling ill, and God knows what else might
be plaguing the man's mind.  He ranted on, but I wasn't listening by
then, only watching him come apart at the seams;  Cloud was a leader
because he could detach from the stress, escape into his own mind, 
and all the while still hear the gentle reassurances of Aeris, while she
was with us, and even now, of Tifa, who was with him even while he gibbered
mindlessly in a mental ward.

    Cid didn't have that. He dealt with everything head-on,
when he could; it was just his way. And now it was just too much all at once. 


    "Cid," I said.

    "What?" His voice was so tired, so tense.

    I went to the door and walked out. "Come with me."



    I brought him to the Gondola.

    "What the fuck did you bring me here for, Vincent?" Cid
muttered tiredly. 

    "You need to relax, Cid," I told him simply.  He
needed rest, relaxation.. release.  Strangely the line for the gondola
was perfectly empty, which suited me just as well. We proceeded without difficulty,
and soon he and I were headed up to the very top of the tower.

    Alone.

    The rickety wooden box creaked along the cables as we
rose, higher and higher toward the apex of the gondola's tracks.  He
sat on one side, I on the other; we both stayed very quiet. The only noise
was the faint, distant sound of the Chocobo races and Cid cracking his knuckles.

    I felt no remorse for taking him there.  It was something
he needed, more than he realized, if he even realized it at all.  Looking
at him, the dark circles under his eyes, the tension in his hands and face,
made it very clear that Cid needed three things: physical exhaustion, release,
and sleep.  And probably a good meal, but that could wait until morning.  
It wasn't the fact that he needed this, and that he would get it, and really
it wasn't the fact that I wanted to be the one to give it to him.

    It was that I wanted to be the only one to give it to
him.

    I began to contemplate.  What I planned to do would
mean shattering the glass wall between us, without warning or tatitation;
doing this meant I had to take without asking, assume consent, and it wasn't
something I was sure I could live with if it were an advance he did not want;
it would ruin our tentative friendship, and the waves of something deeper
would dry up at my feet.  On a more practical and less dire note, I
would need more time than the gondola ride could give, unless I tampered
with motor on the car, and that meant I would be trapped, in a small space,
with an angry, overstressed Cid. 

    As is often his manner, he blurted, "I don't get it, Vincent,
what the fuck are we doing? There's more shit to be done and you know it!
Cloud needs us to--"

    I leaned forward, laid my hand over his mouth. "Shh, Cid. 
Think rationally. You are tense, stressed, and you haven't been eating properly.
Forget about Cloud for now, forget Meteor, forget the Huge Materia, forget
it all."

    "Forget--!" he barked; he looked like he wanted to hit
me, or at least berate me for being stupid.

    "Yes, Cid. Forget. Stop thinking about it."

    He batted my hand away from his face, gruffly. "What am
I supposed to think about?! Cloud is sick, the poor bastard. He's so fucked
up in the head he can't talk straight, I almost fuckin' destroyed a whole
city that's already HAD the shit kicked out of it, and Sephiroth, and Meteor..."


    "Cid."

    "What?"

    I stood up and planted my claw on his chest, pushed him
back against the wooden wall of the gondola and watched a faint blush wash
across his cheeks.  "Stop. Thinking."

    I straddled his lap and leaned in close against him, staring
into his eyes as I undid the buckles fastening my cape.  He froze, eyes
wide, pulse racing so quickly that I could nearly hear it, and his gaze darted
away from mine only just long enough to watch the red fabric slide off my
shoulders and onto the floor.

    "Vincen--"

    I laid a finger against his lips.  "Shh."  Softly
I brushed my mouth over his forehead, a butterfly kiss, and I heard his breathing
pick up. Now was the moment of truth; his heart rate was up, his breathing
was quick, and he was wound so tight beneath my hands I thought he might
snap; I held my breath and waited for a hand to throw me to the floor of
the gondola a b a broad palm to slap me away from him.

    It never came.  I let my breath go. "So tense.."
I murmured, lightly dusting more kisses across his cheeks, his eyelids, his
temples.  Soon his eyes were closed, his lips slightly parted, and I
was able to slightly tip his head back with one hand.   "Relax.."

    "Vincent, what are you...?" he trailed off.

    I couldn't help but laugh, partly to cover my nervousness
and partly because he sounded genuinely surprised. "Is it that shocking?"
I whispered against the near-white downy hair at his temple.  "Every
night I've had to watch you fall apart... come apart at the seams... 
and every night I have to stop myself from doing this, just to give you a
few moments' peace..." I tilted his head back as far as I could so I could
look him in the eyes. "I will not do that anymore, Cid Highwind."

    I took his hands and raised them to my lips, pulled off
the worn leather gloves with my teeth.  "I won't put up with it," Ipeatpeated, and I guided his hands to my hips, spreading my legs a little wider
to settle firmly into his lap.  "If you truly do not want this, I will
remove myself from you and we need never speak of it again.  But if
you do..."

    I kissed the corner of his mouth, not quite a real kiss. 


    "Vincent..." he trailed off, not sure what to say. "We...
there's too much to--"

    "Yes or no, Cid. You needs ans and you know it, but if
you refuse me now I won't offer again."

    Cid's eyes, tension, want, worry and lust chasing each
other back and forth behind the sky blue sheen, bored into mine and I held
my breath, waiting for his decision. 



He tensed, his fingers trembling and finally clenching in the fabric of my
pants. He looked up at me with vulnerable eyes, wider and somehow a more
intense blue than I had ever seen; perhaps he was unsure of himself in this.


    He opened his mouth to say something, but I shook my head. 
"If there are details to be dealt with, if there are protocols to follow;
they wait until dawn."

    It took a moment for him to take what I said and let it
sink in, but he did. With that, I found myself grabbed by my shirtfront and
pulled into the roughest kiss I'd ever had.

    All the pent-up energy, all the stress and worry and whatever
ungodly force compelled him to smoke a pack in fifteen minutes just poured
from his mouth into mine, lips and teeth and tongue and rough, calloused
hands conspiring to tear me in two. He pushed me away just long enough to
pull my shirt open, then pulled me close again, nearly crushed me against
his barrel chest. I felt selfish at that moment, just for the elation that
coursed through me as I tasted the tobacco on his tongue, but it quickly
went to the back burner; I decided to follow my own advice and stop thinking.   


    Looking back, it likely wasn't a good idea at all. 
Such recklessness, such abandon; under different circumstances we might have
been hurt or, at that height, even gotten killed. But, at the same time,
that was part of the thrill.

    Within seconds Cid had pinned me against the wall of the
gondola, all kisskisses and strong arms, and admittedly I was more than a
little delirious. He leaned flush against me as we stood shakily on the floor,
and his body pressed against me in all the right places. I suppose it was
only sheer luck that I felt the rattling of the cord and the creaking of
the machinery; I had the presence of mind, somehow, to jam my claw into the
motor as we passed it. 

    Cid blanched, pulled away. "What the f--?"

    I grabbed him by the collar and kissed him soundly. "I
don't want us to be interrupted."

    We peeled each other out of our clothes and laid my cape
down on the floor, and soon Cid had me pinned to it. He planted his hands
over my elbows, keeping them up over my head where I couldn't use them, and
he lowered his head to my chest and did something I had not anticipated.

    He went slow.  Not quite romantic, not quite lovingly,
and certainly not gentle; just slow.  He took his time with me, finding
places along my neck and chest and stomach that I hadn't known were so sensitive.
His tongue slid over my skin, smooth and hot and sensual; I couldn't help
but toss my head and moan, murmuring his name.

    With my hands pinned, I was at his mercy, and I remained
that way until I felt his hot breath against my thighs; he put a forearm
across my hips to hold me down, and he took me to the hilt almost at once.
The sudden wet heat sent a jolt through me, and it was all I could do to
slide my hand into his hair.  I felt myself reaching climax and I shoved
him away, sitting up.

    He looked almost wounded. "Vin--"

    "No," I said, "It's not that. I just... didn't want to
finish that way."

    "This ain't fuckin' over," he said, and I managed to pin
him down this time.  I straddled his hips, put my hands on his chest
to balance.  I had been with men before, in my younger and wilder Turk
days, but I had never been on the submissive end of things; I looked forward
to it. Cid had my trust.

    "Like this?" he asked breathlessly as he raised me up.


    I nodded, and I let out a deep breath as Cid's strong, ad had hands steadily eased me down onto him.  After a moment he began
to gently rock his hips; we moved together that way, a hard rhythm that felt
so wonderful, so natural, as though we were moving to clockwork.  I
looked down into Cid's half-lidded eyes as he watched me ride.

    Or our own heartbeats, I thought, with a distant, content
feel.

    He sat up so that I was sitting in his lap, then pushed
me down onto my back; whether it was the position itself or just the angle,
every thrust struck something in me that sent shocks through my body. All
my thoughts turned to static as I cried out, moaning Cid's name.

    "MMnnn... Unh, God.. Vincent...mm... tell me, baby, tell
me how you like it...mmn..."

    I had no idea how to answer, but the sound of his voice
just made the words come. "Oh, God... Cid, harder.. Mmm, please, Cid, do
it harder.. yeah...like that, mmm.. like that...!"  It felt so good
this way, his hands on my hips, pulling me back onto him, thrusting into
me and striking that chord, over and over until I needed to scream.

    I could feel him getting frantic, close to orgasm; all
at once, without thinking, I grabbed his shoulders and pulled him down so
that I could whisper in his ear as he drew closer and closer to the edge.

    "Vince," he breathed, "I-I'm..."

    "That's it, Cid, mmmm," I murmured. I felt his body tighten
as I spoke. "Mmmn, so hard... that's it, baby, come for me, mmm... oh, Cid,
come inside me.."

    His back arched and his fingers clawed at my skin, voice
strained as he came; the force, the feel of it, and most of all the sound
of his pleasures coursed through me and sent me into the final throes of
orgasm, blinding me. 

    When I bac back down, we were collapsed together on the
floor of the gondola, breathing hard and exhausted. I wasn't sure if it was
conscious or not, but Cid had curled up around me with his arms strewn across
my waist. 

    "We'll have to go back to the room," he said, voice roughened
and tired.

    I stroked his hair for a moment as we both caught our
breath.

    "It can wait."



    It was some hours before the maintenence crew was able
to fix the damage to the gondola, and Cid and I managed to lightly doze until
what I imagine was about two in the morning.  Unfortunately the crew
did finish, and we found ourselves on the ground shortly afterward.

    We shuffled off to our room.

    The inviting darkness of the hotel was absolutely lovely. 
Most of the bright lights had gone off for the night, except for those in
the restaurant and arcades, but we couldn't see them from our suite anyway. 
Cid didn't waste any words on the pleasant, gentle atmosphere of the dim
room, he simply stripped to his skin (with only a brief pause to decide that
his underclothes were probably too soiled to sleep in comfortably) and climbed
into bed.  

    I stretched, yawned, and began to undress myself. 
My body felt sated in a wayt I t I hadn't been for many years, and the delicious
exhaustion in my muscles reminded me that I had probably needed it as much
as Cid had, if not more.   It also reminded me that I was going
to be sore in the morning, and I resolved to stand as much as possible. 
Cid had the right idea, I thought, and just pulled off my several layers
of clothing. I had never slept naked for comfort's sake before, but it seemed
like the thing to do, so I did.

     As I turned down the sheets, I stole a glance at
the Captain's sleeping face.

    It was the same as always; the perpetual stubble that
scoffed at any razor, the thick, white-blond eyebrows relaxed in place over
the crystal blue eyes.  His hair, touseled and- although I would never
say it out loud- unbearably endearing, if not downright cute,  fell
over his forehead in spikes and wisps.  I smiled.   I didn't
really know if our friendship would still remain intact in the morning, but
even if it did, I could still have this.  This moment, when his whole
body was relaxed and satisfied, and his face held that ethereal, moonlit
peace, would be mine until my heart stopped. 

    I smiled to myself.  Cid would sleep well tonight,
and somehow, knowing that made me feel as though that everything- Sephiroth,
Cloud, the Meteor, Shinra, and even Lucrecia and Hojo and I, in a way- would
all be all right. The more I thought about it, that's what Cid wasilediled
down; even through his rough exterior and horrible language and repulsive
smoking, he was still the feeling of happiness and freedom and the sky. As
long as his eyes were that same shade of blue, and his hair still shone like
the sun and the clouds,  I felt like everything was right in the world.

    Even if our friendship didn't live past sunrise, he was
still himself, and everything would be okay.

    I had no sooner recognized thing ing of tears welling
in my eyes, and sat down on my bed, that Cid's gruff voice rumbled up out
of his sleepiness.

    "What're you doin', Vincent, get yer ass in here. S'cold."

    "You want me to...?"

    He sat up and tried to look at me,  but his eyes
were so unfocused that he ended up looking at something slightly to my right. 
"You mean ta tell me you brought me up in a gondola an' fucked my half-fried
brains out, an'  you think  you're sleepin' alone? Get in here.
It's cold," he muttered. Then he lay down, wrapped up under the covers, and
yawned. "Ass... thinkin'm not gon..." and he trailed off, grumbling in a
half-sleep.

    And what else could I do? I just crawled under the blankets
and curled up against his body, which, if you ask me, wasn't really cold
at all.



    I woke to the smells of hot coffee and something powerfully
sweet.  I sat up, stretched,  and found Cid, sitting at the edge
of the bed with a racing form in one hand and a donut in the other.

    "Morn'ig," he said through his mouthful.

    "Good morning," I replied.  Was Cid going to act
as though it had never happened? It made sense.  Well, it was better
than us not speaking or feeling awkward, and we could still be friends. 
"What time is it?"

    "'Bout ten thirty."

    "Ten-thirty? Usually we're checked out and on the road
by nine, have I overslept?"

    Cid shook his head. "Nah. The others are still trying
for that top prize in the Battle Square, so we're gonna stay another night.
They'll be at it all day."

    "I see."

    The heavy, uncomfortable silence permeated the room again.
I didn't really have a good way to bring it up, and I didn't want to say
anything at all if Cid woultherther just forget about what happened. So,
instead, I just sat quietly and looked for my clothes.

    "It's past dawn, you know," he said nonchalantly. 


    I had my back to him at that point, and I froze. "Yes..
it is," I said cautiously.  I wasn't sure what he would say next, but
Cid being calm is more unnerving than Cid being rambunctious, and the part
of my mind that has irrational fears wondered if he was going to kick me
off the team entirely.

    "You said it could wait 'til dawn and I'm not waiting
anymore.  What the fuck was that all about, Vincent?" He spun in his
chair to face my bare back.  "Out of nowhere you dragged me up to a
carnival ride and seduced me. What the Hell did you do that for?" 

    He sounded angrier than he probably meant to, but I couldn't
afford to take chances. "You needed sleep," I said quietly.  "I didn't
know how else to take your mind off of what was going on and--"

    "Bullshit!" he spat. "If you wanted to do that you would've
got me drunk. What's the real reason, Vince? And don't lie to me, I know
when you're lying. The hair on the back of your neck stands up when you lie."

    I didn't answer. How could I tell him that I'd been lusting
after him- not even lusting, reallust ust smitten with him.  I cursed
myself for my lack of control. How could I have gotten myself into this?
Finally, I just sighed.  "You needed sleep, Cid.  You needed to
be exhausted, with nothing else on your mind to keep you awake. You were
an absolute wreck."

    "You really expect me to believe that you just jumped
me in a gondola because I needed to go to sleep?" he asked. "So you really
mean to say that you did it just for that, it could've been anywhere, anytime,
anybody, and you woulda fucked 'em to let 'em get some rest? What the Hell,
Vincent!?"  Cid stood up and came around in front of me, glaring and
upset. "Is that really all there was to it?!"

    Suddenly, having him in my face just tripped some wire
in me, and I grabbed him by the collar. "Do you want the truth, Highwind? 
Yes, I did it because you were stressed to the point of where you might have
had a heart attack, thanks to those disgusting things you've always got in
your mouth. And yes, I did it because smoking like a chimney and shuffling
around like a half-crazed lunatic is not only a hindrance to you but a threat
to our team and because of that, a threat to our very Planet.  But no,
that's not all there is to it. I did have a selfish reason for taking you
up into a carnival ride, seducing you, and letting you fuck me into the floor." 
Here I pulled him up onto the bed, pinned him down, and straddled his waist,
just as I had the night before. "I did it because I wanted to do it, and
obviously you didn't have much of a problem with it, or did you forget screaming
my name?"

    I didn't expect a broad, heavy arm to come sweeping me
off his body and onto my back, and soon I found I had a very large and angry
pilot sitting on my stomach.  "No, I didn't forget, you arrogant sonuvabitch,"
he said, his huge hands holding my shoulders down.  "And I wasn't plannin'
on it either, and I still at. St. So you're gonna come clean with me right
now or I'm just gonna pop you one in the fuckin' mouth for screwing with
me like this, you understaNow,Now, out with it!"

     I couldn't keep myself from glaring at him and baring
my teeth. How dare he be upset? He was the one who was always so ambiguous
about things between us, always dropping little flirtatious hints and comments!
"Fine! You want to hear me say  it, Captain? All right, yes, I'm infatuated
with you, and I have been for awhile, but if it wasn't your intention to
let me know that you were interested, then you're a cruel, miserable bastard
for stringing me along! Now get off m--!"

    I never finished my sentence.  All the anger and
fear in me washed away, as soon as I felt Cid's kiss on my lips, and his
hands in my hair.



And so it began.

As I s we we never spoke of it.  It didn't seem as though we needed
to, and although our lives have been as different as any two lives can be,
our experiences together bound us in a way that only saving the world can. 
If the others ever noticed the subtle changes in how we reacted to one another,
they never said anything. Not that I suppose it mattered.  Cloud rejoined
us, and although I was relieved and pleased with his recovery, as were we
all, I could not help but feel selfishly comforted.  Cid's burdens were
lightened from not having to lead a team that suffered the loss of three
members, and I suppose we all felt better that we were, more or less, whole.
Things were as right as they could be.

At one point I overheard Tifa saying something about how nice it was that
I was finally beginning to socialize with the team, although how she came
to that conclusion is beyond me. My social interactions with anyone but Cid
were strained at best; I simply did not have the tolerance to withstand Tifa
and her disenheartening dependence on Cloud, or Barret's gargantuan clumsiness,
or Yuffie's constant attempts to rifle through my pockets and finding things
that were undeniably not materia, or Cait Sith's- well, Reeve's, I suppose-
utter silliness.  Cloud was present, but often distant to me, and Nanaki
and I really had very little to say to each other that was not concern for
one another in battle, or thank-you's and you're-welcomes associated with
the receiving and giving, respectively, of scratches. There were times that
we found ourselves being of similar opinions on certain subject, but that
didn't leave much room for discussion.

As soon as he was out of the hospital and on his feet, Cloud insisted that
we get back on track right away, but the medication he'd been given demanded
some time for it to run its course through his body. Tifa decided to spend
a while letting him rest, so we went to spend that time at Icicle Inn. With
the snow and warm fires and so on, we all thought it would be relaxing (and
although he didn't mention it, I had a feeling that Cid wanted to try snowboarding
again). Cloud felt it was a waste, but none of us were all that willing to
stand against Tifa on the subject.

Of course, Cloud is not the type of man to sit in idleness if it can be helped,
and if he was too ill to fight, he certainly was not too ill to think. 
He called me up onto the roof, where even if we were heard, it wouldn't matter.

"Vincent... I need to talk to you for a minute." 

"Hm." He sounded concerned, and wary, as though he knew I wouldn't like what
he had to say. Although I don't particularlust ust Cloud's judgment when
it comes to what I do and do not like, he seemed as though it hurt him to
say what he wanted.

"I've been thinking... about how we're going to do this... Eventually we'll
have to go back to Midgar. And.... well.... We're probably going to have
to deal with the Turks. And Hojo."

What could he want from me, I wondered; it wasn't as though I had any ties
to him except that he needed to be stopped.

"When we go to fight him... I want you to stay behind."

"What?!"  I probably spoke with more force in that one word than any
I had ever said to him before.

"You have a personal vendetta against him, Vincent, and that compromises
your judgement. Who knows what kind of things he's got defending him? I know
he can't be popular at ShinRa, there has to be something keeping him safe.
On top of that, he's insane. Seeing you might set him off, and I don't really
want that battle to be more difficult than it needs to be.... I understand
how hard it is for you, but.. "

"How can you understand? Cloud, this man took everything from me - Lucrecia,
her son, thirty years- thirty years, Cloud, I've spent more of my life in
that horrible casket than out! I can't just sit back and let someone else
do my dirty work..." I told him. I couldn't blame him for thinking the way
he did, because he did have a point, and during my Turk days I might have
said the same thing to my teammates, were they in this situation.  "I
have sins to atone for, Cloud, and I can't do that until Hojo has been stopped."

"We'll stop him," he said quietly.  "I knew you wouldn't like the idea,
but... we can't afford to take unnecessary risks. I can't really stop you
from coming, Vincent, but I'm going to ask you... as a teammate and a friend,
stay behind.  We know you have to settle this, but there's nothing wrong
with letting your friends help you. Just keep in mind that this is the whole
Planet we're talking about, and everyone who's suffered because of what Hojo
did... just think about it, okay?"

I nodded, but that didn't console me, and I left the room before I could
do something counterproductive.  I stayed alone in Cid's and my room,
thinking. Although Cid came back in an excited, if snow-covered, good humor
after his several snowboarding attempts, he seemed to sense that I was not
in the mood to talk. We passed the night in silence, and I resolved to trust
Cloud's judgment; he was right, there was more at stake here than my own
peace of mind, and it would be selfish to put our entire mission at risk. 
With that in mind, I slept, although I couldn't bring myself to be satisfied
with my decision.

---

With Tifa tending to him,Yuffie out stealing things, and Barret and Nanaki
trying to find a chobo big enough to support Barret's weight (nobody even
asked where Cait Sith went, which I suppose is just as well), Cid and I enjoyed
each other's company.

The hotel was small and comfortable, with crackling fires and thick, warm
blankets;  all of it was very cozy and so far removed from the atmosphere
of the ShinRa mansion that I found myself sleeping much more restfully. This,
I'm sure, was enhanced by having Cid curled up against my chest.  
Unfortunately restful places don't suit Cid very well, and he insisted that
I come outside with him; when he still pestered me, despite the three or
so pillows I had thrown at him, I followed him and the snowboard out.

There really wasn't much to do, except help Cid drag his poor, broken body
back up the hill every time he crashed into something on his way down, but
that was really a reward in itself.  Cid with snow in his boxers is
a laugh riot.

When darkness rolled in, we came inside, welcoming the warmth and comfort
of a roaring fire and a hot meal, which we took in our room. Comfortable
silence, flavored with the sort of intimacy that doesn't demand much rapport,
seemed to keep us entertained for the evening. Dinner was a simple affair;
hot soup, a game of cards, and some bizzare liquor of Cid's that tasted vaguely
of vermouth, cherry juice and engine fluid. In the end, I would say it was
a productive night. Had I been the type to keep my winnings and not slip
them back into his wallet, I might have made off with all of his Gil, his
wristwatch, and three of his Materia.

"Good game, Vincent," he said nonchalantly, lighting up one of those bedamned
cigarettes.  "Can't fuckin' believe I lost that bad..."

"It's not as though I'm skilled, you know.  You simply can't hold a
poker face, Chief," I told him.

"Yeah.. Heh, I guess I wear my cards on my sleeve."  He put the deck
back in its box and poured another glass of his booze, then proceeded to
take a swig from the bottle.  "Hey... can I ask you something?"

"What about?" I took my bandanna off and hung it up next to Cid's goggles
on the rack. 

"You were upset yesterday," he began, voice carefully neutral. He took another
drink.  "What's eating you?"

I stopped and really considered the question. Should I tell him? And if I
did, what would he think? I doubted he would approve of Cloud's asking me
to sit out the most important battle of my unnatural life, and I knew he
wouldn't approve of my honoring his request.  "Nothing," I said.

"Liar."

Damn.  "Yes."

"So? What's bothering you?" he pressed as he put his feet up on the table.
He didn't look like he was going anywhere, and he seemed relaxed enough to
hear me out, so I decided that it might be good to talk about it.

It took a few minutes and some careful word choice on my part, but I managed
to explain what had transpired between me and our esteemed leader. 
As expected, Cid did not take the peaceful road and proceeded to denounce
Cloud's manhood, my courage, Hojo's sexual potency, and then our collective
intelligence, in that order (although, as one could probably assume, he used
much more colorful language and managed to expose me to the word "cluster-fuck"
for the first time).  After his tirade and about a quarter of that liquor
gone, not including the glass he'd poured,  I told him to politely shut
his pie hole.

Then he wintointo a laughing fit because I'd said "pie hole".  At that
point I told him I knew of another "hole" of his and a certain "claw" that
he may find inside it if he kept acting like a moron, and he quickly responded
that if he was going to have an appendage of mine inside him, he'd prefer
it to be a leg instead of an arm- specifically, the third one.  After
that, it was war, and I must say that I emerged victorious, but Cid didn't
seem too disappointed with losing.